With Mine Eyes
by laced-with-fire
Summary: Athos is free from Milady but nothing ever runs smoothly for long; the arrival of a woman in Paris sets events and plots into motion that could catch all of the Musketeers in a web of hatred. Shamelessly Athos centric. Sadly the Musketeers aren't mine, just borrowing and then I'll put them back :-)
1. Chapter 1

**Well here we are, new story, slightly AU with the start of series two but there we go. Hope you like.**

_In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,_

_For they in thee a thousand errors note,_

_But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,_

_Who in despite the view is pleased to dote._

_ William Shakespeare_

Captain Treville sat at his desk frowning at the report he held in his hands, he hadn't planned for this and of all days to receive such a report, this was not a good one. Quickly he thought through the duties he had assigned to his musketeers today and wondered who he could trust to carry out what now needed to be done. As if on cue he heard a familiar laugh from the courtyard; Porthos if he was not much mistaken. He sighed and dropped the report back on his desk before making his way out onto the balcony.

They were there, the three inseparables, recently become four with d'Artagnan's commission. He did not announce himself immediately but stood watching them, contemplating. They were always to be found together and if not then they were looking for each other. He had often likened them in his mind to a pack of hounds; loyal to their pack and always able to find each other come hell or high water. It was not uncommon for soldiers to form strong bonds but these four were stronger than most. He had known other Captains who would have separated such soldiers; fearing the effect it would have if one were wounded or killed but he could not condone such a thing, not with these four. As he watched them, Aramis smiling brightly as he poked fun at d'Artagnan, Porthos clapping the boy on the shoulder and Athos smiling wryly as he lounged against the stairs, Treville made a decision.

"You four; my office, now." He knew his irritation was apparent in his voice and saw the raised eyebrows as he turned away. A moment later he heard their footsteps on the stairs as they obeyed without question. They filed in, Athos leading them, the others following in his wake. They stood silent and still, waiting patiently. "I've had a report of trouble along the road into the city; a small group of men in the woods that border the road. There is someone travelling along that road today who may need protection and I can only spare two of you; Athos and Porthos you're going."

"Who are we protecting?" Athos had raised an eyebrow in question.

"Her name is Madame Ardoin; she'll be travelling with a man and another woman; they are due to arrive on the road today. Get yourselves out there and watch for them; when you get them to Paris then bring them here."

"To the garrison?" Porthos' confusion was evident.

"That's what I said." Treville fixed the soldier with a glare. "There is one more thing you need to know..." He was cut off as the door to the office flew open and a messenger fell into the office closely followed by an apologetic looking musketeer.

"Captain Treville, the King demands your presence immediately." Treville sighed and picked up his hat and cloak.

"Aramis, d'Artagnan with me." He hurried out of the room closely followed by the musketeers he had summoned, leaving Athos and Porthos behind. They looked at the door before turning to each other.

"Well so much for something we needed to know." Porthos glanced back at the door.

"I imagine we'll find out soon enough." Athos' face betrayed nothing.

"Best get going then; don't want to upset him anymore." Without another word they placed their hats on their heads and left the room.

Treville stood before the King; although he was outwardly calm Aramis and d'Artagnan could see the tension in his jaw and shoulders. They knew their Captain was fretting although they could not fathom why. As per usual the King prattled on, not realising or caring that something bothered his loyal musketeer.

"...and when she arrives I want to meet her; I'm quite fascinated."

"Of course, you're Majesty."

"Very well, Treville you can go." The King turned away and the musketeers and their Captain bowed low before leaving. Aramis and d'Artagnan followed him, neither daring to speak and risk the wrath they could see simmering just below the surface. They both tensed as he rounded a corner only to collide with a woman coming the other way, sending the pile of linen in her arms to the floor where it collapsed in untidy folds. It was only when Treville stepped away, mumbling an apology that they saw that he had collided with Constance.

"It's alright, Captain, I wasn't looking where I was going either." She knelt and began to gather up the pile of fabric. Out of chivalry, Treville knelt to help, but his musketeers could see that he was itching to get away.

"You go on, Captain; I'll help Madame Bonacieux." D'Artagnan stepped forwards and the Captain straightened, nodding.

"Don't be too long." He strode off along the corridor and d'Artagnan knelt beside Constance, studiously ignoring the smile on Aramis' face as he followed the Captain.

"Is he alright?" Constance shook out a piece of linen and began to refold it.

"Not sure, he's been in an odd mood all day."

"He looked worried." Her brow creased in concern.

"He has a lot to worry about." D'Artagnan picked up the now neatly folded pile of linen and stood, offering a hand to Constance. She took it and rose to her feet before taking the linen from his hands.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He paused, gazing at her for a moment. "How are you enjoying the life of a lady in waiting?"

"Well I don't get to go home much, which means I don't really see my husband." She watched as his face dropped and laughed. "But that does mean I get to see you." He grinned at her, once more giving thanks as he had many times over the last few months that Constance had come to work at the palace and that they had once again been able to rekindle their love; albeit more carefully than last time. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one else was around, d'Artagnan leant forwards and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before taking his leave and moving hastily down the corridor after Treville and Aramis.

Athos and Porthos cantered along the road making their way to the woods that Treville had spoken of. They slowed when they reached the right stretch of road; walking their horses slowly while watching the trees carefully for any sign of the bandits.

"So who do you reckon she is?" Porthos' eyes flicked back and forth as he spoke.

"It doesn't matter; Treville has ordered us to protect her. If he wants us to find out who she is then he'll tell us." Athos sounded bored.

"Would it kill you to be curious?" Porthos shook his head.

"There's a saying about curiosity." Porthos could swear he heard a note of amusement under the boredom, something that happened more often now that he was free of Milady. He was about to retort when the crack of a gunshot sounded on the road ahead of them. As they spurred their horses along the road, both feared that they may have failed in their mission before it had even begun.

As they rode, Athos heard one of the most terrible noises in the world; a horses' scream, mingled with that of a woman. They rounded the bend in the road at a gallop, their horses barely keeping their footing. Athos drew his pistol, barely keeping his grip on his horses' reins as he hauled it to a stop. He looked at the scene before him and counted five men all brandishing one form of weapon or another. Two horses milled around nervously and he could see the body of a man not far away, another horse spun nervously, the woman on its' back clutching on as best she could. He fired his pistol and heard Porthos do the same; two of the men fell soundlessly. One turned and fired at him and Athos felt the shot fly past his head. Porthos leapt from his horse, drawing his sword and Athos followed suit.

"Eleanor." He heard the woman call out and another shot rang through the air, a second later the woman's horse screamed and fell in a tangle of limbs, taking her with it.

One man ran at Porthos and Athos heard a woman's scream as another man ran at him. He parried a thrust from the knife in the man's hand and flicked the point of his sword round, driving it through his opponents' chest. He paused and looked around, Porthos had just dispatched his opponent and by Athos' reckoning that left one more. He heard a strangled cry and turned; the last man knelt on the floor, straddling another woman. One hand was wrapped about her neck, in his other hand he held a knife, the point of the blade pressing into the hollow of her throat. He looked up, his eyes desperate as the two musketeers advanced on him.

"Don't come any closer." He glared at them and tightened his grip on the girl, she grasped at his wrist as she fought for breath, her nails leaving bloody lines across his skin.

"Jesus, he's killing her." Athos heard Porthos' voice low behind him and knew his friend was right.

"Your friends are dead, if you kill this woman now in cold blood it will not save you." Athos took a small step closer, halting when the man pressed the knife against the girls' throat, drawing a drop of blood that shone like a ruby against her fair skin. She cried out and her feet kicked wildly, heels digging into the soft earth.

"Won't make much difference then will it?" Desperation verging on madness showed in his eyes and the musketeers coiled like springs as they realised what he intended. At that moment the girl gave a cry and with some deep reserve of desperate strength managed to push his hand away, knocking the knife to the side. Athos saw Porthos move, running faster than any man of his size should and barrelling into the man, knocking him away from the girl. They rolled across the floor and Athos ran towards the woman; she had rolled onto her side, one hand at her throat as she drew in shuddering breaths. As he reached her, Athos saw Porthos rise to his feet, leaving the man in a bleeding heap on the dirt road.

"Are you alright, Madame?" Athos reached out to help the woman sit up, swiftly pulling his hand back when she flinched from his touch as though burned. Her head turned towards his voice but she did not look at him. She said nothing, but her head turned again as Porthos approached, his eyes fixed on the girl, a frown on his face as he watched her carefully.

"Athos." Porthos' voice was quiet and he nodded at the girl, frowning. Athos looked up at Porthos then back at the woman in front of him; her green eyes did not focus on anything, but her head turned at sounds. It took him only a moment to realise what Porthos had already seen. This woman was blind.

**Well there we go, hope you like.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, here's the next chapter. Thank you to Merick, Target Zero and cdsnow for the reviews, much love for those :-)**

* * *

Athos looked at the girl again and took a breath, uncertain of how to reassure her. Porthos saw his hesitation and stepped forwards quickly, crouching in front of the girl. When he spoke his voice was a quiet rumble, as though he were soothing a skittish horse.

"It's alright, we're King's musketeers." Carefully he reached out and took the girls' hand, lifting it to his shoulder; Athos watched as her fingers traced over the carefully tooled leather of his pauldron. Her head turned towards Athos and she reached out her hand towards him, her expression guarded. Athos glanced at Porthos and saw the big man nod, deciding not to question his friend; he reached forwards and gently grasped her fingers, lifting her hand and placing it carefully on his shoulder. Once she had felt the fleur-de-lis she seemed calmer and Athos took her hand once more, helping her to her feet.

"Thank you for your help, gentlemen. It's good that you came when you did." She shook her head, dislodging the lock of fiery red hair that had fallen across her face.

"A report was received of trouble on the road, we were sent to ensure that it stopped." Athos paused as the girl began to turn her head from side to side as though trying to locate something.

"Charlotte? Raoul?" The girl called out the names and when she received no answer turned back towards the musketeers.

"I had two others with me; a girl and a young man. Please, are they here?" Porthos moved over to where the horse that had been shot lay. The girl lay under it, her chest crushed and her eyes unseeing. He brushed his fingers down her face, gently closing her eyes and looked around; there was a boy not far away, he was sprawled face down and his clothing suggested that he was not one of the bandits. Carefully Porthos rolled him over and saw instantly that there was no help for him; a blade to the throat had seen to that. Sighing, he rose to his feet and made his way back to where the girl stood with Athos.

"I'm sorry; they didn't make it."

"Oh no." Her breath hitched and Athos caught her arm as she swayed on her feet, leaning heavily on him.

"We will see to it that they are buried." Athos' voice was as steady and sure as his grip on her arm. "But for now, I must ask your name."

"E...Eleanor Ardoin." Her voice shook as she answered and Porthos saw tears spill over to fall like crystal drops down her cheeks. After a moment she seemed to shake herself and drew in a few harsh breaths, scrubbing her tears away with the back of her hand. A few more breaths later and she seemed to have composed herself with what could only be an iron self control and when she spoke her voice was steady. "If I might prevail upon you to find my horse, Monsieurs'; she has a rope tied to her bridle."

"I see her." Porthos turned and moved across the clearing to where an elegant chestnut mare stood, gazing back at him, the dappled sunlight shining on a smooth coat that was almost the same fiery red as her mistress' hair. Carefully he approached her and she regarded him warily with liquid eyes. "S'alright, sweetheart, I'm not gonna hurt you." Her ears twitched as she heard his soft rumble and the horse did not move as he took hold of her bridle, lifting the trailing rope before turning her back across the clearing.

As the big musketeer turned to retrieve the horse, Eleanor had turned to Athos who's hand remained on her arm.

"It strikes me Monsieur that you have not yet introduced yourselves."

"My apologies, Madame Ardoin, it was remiss of us. I am Athos of the Kings' Musketeers."

"And your friend?"

"Porthos, also of the Kings' Musketeers." She inclined her head, a small smile ghosting over her features.

As Porthos approached them the horse tossed her head and snorted. Eleanor's head turned and she stretched out a hand, her fingers finding and gently caressing the velvety muzzle. Almost immediately the horse calmed and Porthos smiled at the clear bond between the pair.

"Do you need assistance, Madame?" He felt her fingers brush his as she stepped away from Athos and took the reins.

"Not to mount, thank you, but she will need to follow one of your horses if you would be so kind as to lead her once I am mounted." She stepped alongside the mare and ran one hand over the chestnut neck. Her fingers pressed against a point on the silken fur and both musketeers looked on in amazement as the mare sank gracefully to her knees, settling on the ground. Eleanor settled herself in the saddle with smooth, practiced motions and at a gentle nudge from her heels the mare rose once more to her feet. Shaking off their surprise at what they had just seen, Athos and Porthos quickly hurried to retrieve their own horses.

"Never seen a horse that well trained." Porthos' voice was a murmur as he swung himself into the saddle.

"Especially not a chestnut mare." Athos could not hide the note of admiration in his voice. He had owned and ridden plenty of well trained horses before, however every chestnut mare he had ridden had been hot tempered and entirely uncooperative. Granted, his horse could be an absolute bastard at times but never quite so bad as a chestnut mare.

Porthos moved his horse alongside Eleanor's and grasped the rope; it had not taken any great length of discussion to decide that he should lead her. Athos' horse had about as much inclination as his rider for company and was not unknown to send well aimed kicks at other horses that invaded his personal space. They made their way towards Paris at a steady walk, and Athos could hear snatches of words from behind as Porthos made easy conversation with Eleanor. As her gentle laugh sounded, the elder musketeer found himself wondering how his friends all seemed to have the talent of being able to strike up conversation without any effort. He doubted that even had he been so inclined, he would ever find it that easy.

It was late in the afternoon when they rode into the garrison and Athos dismounted, tossing the reins of his horse to the stable boy before helping Eleanor from her mare. He had barely set her on her feet when he heard a familiar voice.

"I thought you'd never make it back, any longer and Treville would have sent us out after you." He turned to see d'Artagnan leaning against a pillar.

"Nice to see he misses us." Porthos swung himself from the saddle and clapped the boy on the shoulder.

"He's been twitchy all day." Aramis sauntered over, and fed the apple he was holding to Porthos' horse. He paused, taking in the girl stood before Athos and each of his three friends rolled their eyes as he looked at her.

"Well you had best inform him that we have arrived." Athos' voice was firm and his gaze hard with silent warning. Aramis took the hint and turned, making his way up the stairs to Treville's office.

Barely moments later, they heard hurried footsteps and Treville emerged onto the balcony and made his way down the stairs, his gaze fixed on the girl. When he stepped onto the courtyard he seemed almost hesitant as he moved towards her and took her hands in his own.

"It's good to see you again, Eleanor."

"And you, Father."

D'Artagnan blinked in surprise, not quite sure if had heard her words right. He looked at the others, seeing equal surprise on each of their faces, or as close to equal as was possible. Porthos was in danger of losing his eyebrows if they rose any further. Aramis had taken a step back, any thoughts he might have had about wooing this young woman quickly retreating and Athos had quirked an eyebrow.

Treville looked at Eleanor, brushing her hair back from her face and frowning when he noticed the small cut at the base of her throat. He glanced up at Athos and Porthos and nodded his gratitude before taking the girls' arm and guiding her up the stairs to his office. The musketeers watched as they disappeared and headed towards the table where Serge was laying out food and wine. Athos fell into step beside Porthos as they made their way across the courtyard.

"How did you realise so quickly?" Athos knew that he did not need to explain himself.

"Seen plenty like her in the Court; easy enough to recognise." His voice was quiet and Athos nodded, seeing the fleeting sadness that crossed the big man's' features.

"Come on, you two, or d'Artagnan will have eaten all the food." Aramis grinned as he called to them.

"Yes and Aramis will have drunk all the wine." D'Artagnan's retort was accompanied by a flying piece of bread aimed at Aramis' head.

"Well I s'pose that answers the question of who she is." Porthos grinned as he reached for a jug of wine.

"I never knew the Captain had a daughter." Aramis had picked up another apple.

"I would imagine it never came up in conversation." D'Artagnan had just about got over his shock.

"Yeah and if it had I bet he would never have told you." Porthos chuckled.

"It's true, she is very attractive."

"No!" Aramis almost fell off the bench as his three friends spoke in unison. He looked up to see Athos staring at him over the rim of his cup, his eyes hard and his face as unyielding as an avenging angel.

"Don't even think about it, Aramis."

"I won't."

"I mean it; she's not just another girl for you to seduce." He glared and Aramis held up his hands in surrender.

"You have my solemn vow, my friends that I will not go near her." He flashed them a smile and they all sighed.

They looked up as footsteps sounded above them and Treville emerged with Eleanor, one of her hands on his arm as they made their way down the stairs. He paused as he passed the table and fixed Athos and Porthos with a stare.

"I'll be back later; you two give me your report then." Athos nodded and Treville turned without another word, leading Eleanor from the garrison.

Treville led Eleanor through the streets of Paris, guiding her carefully through the crowds. They had not walked very far when they came to a modest house, not far away from the market. Stopping at the door, Treville pulled a key from his pocket and opened it, leading Eleanor inside.

The hallway was quiet and cool compared to the hot, noisy streets of Paris and Eleanor relished the sudden quiet as Treville closed the door. A moment later footsteps sounded and she heard a woman's voice.

"Monsieur Treville, at last, we were starting to worry. There is wine in the kitchen for you both."

"Thank you, Anna." Treville took Eleanor's arm and brought her forwards a step. "This is my daughter; Eleanor. Eleanor, this is Anna; she looks after the house and will be taking care of you."

"A pleasure to meet you, my dear, he has told me so much about you."

"Good things, I hope." Eleanor smiled.

"Always." Anna took one of Eleanor's hands in her own; her hands were firm and her touch caring. "Come, you must be tired from your journey." Treville smiled as she led Eleanor down the hall, Anna was of good solid country stock; she took no nonsense from anybody and he trusted her completely to take care of Eleanor. He followed them down the hall to the kitchen to find Eleanor sat at the table. Anna clucked her tongue at him as he entered.

"Sit, you must stay for a while." She set a glass of wine in front of him and bustled from the room.

"Anna is a good woman; she'll take good care of you." He settled himself into a chair and Eleanor smiled.

"I like her; she doesn't let you get away with anything I see."

"You're right there." He laughed and took a sip of the wine. "This house is yours to use. I never sleep here now so it will be good to have it lived in once more. I'll show it to you in a while; it's not big so you'll be able to learn it quickly." He paused, slightly awkward in her presence after so long. "The King wants to meet you." Her head lifted sharply.

"Why?" Her tone was guarded.

"He's...fascinated."

"Ah, he's never seen a blind woman up close and wants to gawp, is that it?" Her voice was harsh.

"He's also fascinated by the fact that I have a daughter."

"Many men have daughters."

"Yes but no one knew that I did." She nodded in a grudging understanding.

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Fine." Sensing that she was not pleased, Treville put his glass down and stood.

"Come on, I'll show you the house." He took her arm and led her through the house, walking slowly as her fingers trailed along the walls and she began to learn her way around.

* * *

**Well there we go, hope you liked it. Much love and imaginary cookies for reviews :-)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well hello again. Many thanks (and the promised imaginary cookies) to obh614 and merick for the reviews.**

* * *

Aramis sat at the table, his head bent over the pistol he was polishing. He listened as Athos put d'Artagnan through his paces and smiled as he heard a thud followed by Porthos' laugh and an admonishment from Athos. He looked up as he heard heavy footsteps and instantly recognised the Captain's tread. Treville looked far more relaxed than he had previously in the day, some of the tension had gone from his shoulders but he still didn't look entirely happy.

"Athos, Porthos, my office." His tone was one that his musketeers had learned not to disregard if they wished to continue breathing and the soldiers in question immediately ceased their activities and followed him up the stairs.

When they reached the office, Treville was pacing back and forth, not unlike an angry lion. They had barely closed the door behind them when he spoke.

"What happened?"

"We found Madame Ardoin and her companions being attacked on the road. By the time we got there, her companions were dead." Athos kept his report blunt and to the point.

"You killed the bandits?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What happened to Eleanor?"

"The last man alive held a knife to her throat."

"Alright, she said you conducted yourselves well; 'perfect gentlemen' she called you. Personally I think she's being generous to you ruffians but well done. She's not an easy woman to impress." The last vestiges of tension appeared to leave him and he sat down. "Tomorrow the King has asked to meet Eleanor, you two, along with Aramis and d'Artagnan are coming with us; the more people she has around her who she's met the happier she'll be." He nodded at them, effectively dismissing them and they filed from the office.

That night, the musketeers sat in the tavern, a large jug of wine on the table between them.

"She said you were what?" Aramis' eyes sparkled with laughter as he poured wine into his cup.

"Said we was perfect gentlemen."

"Porthos, my friend, she clearly is not well acquainted with you." Aramis laughed at the offended look on his friend's face.

"Either that or she's had a poor sampling of gentlemen." D'Artagnan ducked, not quite managing to avoid the cuff that Porthos aimed at his head.

"So what is she like?" Aramis caught the glances of his friends and held up his hands. "I'm merely curious as to what manner of woman the Captain has bred."

"She seems nice enough." Porthos grunted. "Got that horse of hers well trained."

"I wonder if she's inherited the Captain's temper." D'Artagnan poured more wine into his cup. "What do you think, Athos?" They looked at Athos who had not yet spoken a word.

"Not being well acquainted with her I wouldn't know, however if she is anything like him at all then I imagine it was unavoidable." He drained his glass and stood, bidding them goodnight before heading for home.

The next morning the musketeers gathered in the garrison and waited for Treville to assign the duties to the rest of the regiment. Eventually he was ready and they mounted their horses, Aramis leading Eleanor's mare as they made their way through the streets. It did not take long for Eleanor to appear at the door of the house and she greeted Porthos and Athos with a smile before being introduced to Aramis and d'Artagnan. Porthos grinned at the look of surprise on his brothers' faces as they watched Eleanor mount her horse.

It did not take them long to ride to the palace and Treville took his daughter's arm as they made their way through the corridors to the throne room. The King and Queen sat, watching as they approached. The Cardinal stood to one side and Treville groaned inwardly as he saw Rochefort leaning against one wall.

"Your majesties, may I present my daughter, Eleanor Ardoin." He led Eleanor to stand before the thrones and stepped away as she curtsied deeply.

"You are married, Eleanor? The King was grinning as he studied her face.

"Widowed, Majesty." Eleanor raised her head and gave a slight smile that did not reach her eyes. Athos watched as the King asked her more questions, grinning like a child with a new toy. Eleanor answered them, her tone civil but her manner ever so slightly aloof. He could tell that she was not happy to be here and he did not blame her. He was jerked from his observations as he heard the King make an exclamation of surprise.

"You dance, you say?"

"Yes, your Majesty, I enjoy dancing."

"How intriguing." The King grinned at the Cardinal as though sharing a private joke. "I am glad you came to visit us, we should hope to see you again sometime." Eleanor curtsied and Athos felt Treville nudge his arm.

"Take her home." Athos nodded once and stepped forwards, gently taking Eleanor's hand and placing it on his arm.

"Madame Ardoin, the Captain has asked me to take you home." She nodded and fell into step beside him as the King called Treville forwards. He moved quickly, leading her from the throne room, knowing that the King would begin to chatter about her and not wanting the barely controlled fire in her eyes to have any more fuel added to it. Once they had made their way into the corridor he spoke quietly.

"I will not insult you by asking if you are alright." The corner of her mouth twisted up in a humourless smile.

"It's nice to know that you at least have some sense." Athos gave a wry smile.

"I think the Captain might disagree."

"Yes, he has written to me of the antics of you and your friends." Her smile was genuine this time.

"Then I fear all hope is lost."

"Not quite." Her smile vanished as she felt him stop suddenly as footsteps sounded behind them.

"Your Eminence." Athos greeted Richelieu as he appeared behind them in the hallway and Eleanor could hear his guarded tone. The Cardinal smiled with all the sincerity of a snake as he approached them.

"I am surprised, Madame Ardoin that your father permits you to be escorted by lone musketeers." Eleanor felt Athos' muscles stiffen under her hand and smiled sweetly.

"I thank you for your concern, Cardinal. However, although I have only been acquainted with them a short while, in that time they have proven themselves to be perfect gentlemen, whereas others in higher position have yet to do so."

"A bold statement, Madame. I hope they continue to prove gentlemanly." Eleanor smiled at him once more, her eyes colder than a Paris winter and Athos watched as the Cardinal stalked off down the hall, waiting until he had gone before leading Eleanor onwards.

"Well that insult wasn't exactly veiled." He could not hide his amusement.

"It wasn't meant to be; he was rude and I don't like him."

"He didn't take kindly to it."

"I don't need to see him to know that; just as I don't need to see you to know that you're smirking." He could not deny it and she laughed softly as they left the palace.

The Cardinal fumed as he stalked through the palace, he stepped into the throne room just as the King dismissed Treville and the other musketeers with him; the other three of the four that had become such thorns in his side. He glowered at them as they walked past him, already plotting to humiliate the girl and them.

Treville sat at the table with Eleanor as Anna cleared away their plates. Their conversation had been sparse, but that was how they had always been. He watched as Eleanor ran her fingertips over the wooden table and finally asked her what he had been wondering since they had been at the palace.

"Did the Cardinal speak to you at the palace?"

"Yes, why?"

"That will be why he had a face like thunder when we left. What did you say to him?"

"He was rude to your musketeer, I merely corrected his statement." She was clearly unrepentant and Treville sighed.

"Be careful, Eleanor. He is spiteful and has a huge influence on the King; he will seek to humiliate you."

"So, it seems will the King." He saw her anger rising and placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to quell the fire.

"I'm only asking you to take care; for my sanity as much as anything else."

"Alright." Her anger faded and she sat back in her chair.

"So what impression have my musketeers made on you that you feel the need to defend them against the Cardinal?"

"They've treated me well and kindly. I haven't yet seen any of the idiocy you wrote to me about."

"Give them time; you hardly know them."

"I've only really spoken to two of them."

"Athos and Porthos; what do you think of them?" He watched her face as she thought.

"Porthos is kind, he has a reassuring presence about him; my horse liked him which is surprising, she doesn't like many people."

"And Athos?" Eleanor took a breath before answering as though thinking carefully.

"He's noble, that much is evident in his manner. But there's something sad about him, like he's been hurt deeply."

"I'd forgotten just how well you can judge a man's character." He rose from his chair and kissed her cheek. "But now I must go, the King has asked to see me again this evening."

"Goodnight, Father."

* * *

**Well there we are, hope you liked. Much love :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well here we are again. Thank you to merick, Twitch666, obh614, MorganOfTheFey and Tanjatailor for the reviews :-) Hope you like.**

* * *

When d'Artagnan reached the garrison the next morning, the first thing he saw was his three friends sat at the table, their attention fixed on the balcony outside Treville's office, Anna sat with them. He strolled over to join them and sat next to Porthos.

"What's going on?"

"Captain asked to see his daughter this morning." Porthos looked vaguely amused.

"And whatever he's said to her hasn't gone down well." Aramis tilted his head and d'Artagnan looked up as he heard Eleanor's voice coming from the office. Although he couldn't hear the words her tone was unmistakably angry. He shuddered; she did not sound like a woman to cross, but then again, he mused, neither was any other woman of his acquaintance.

Treville watched as Eleanor paced back and forth across his office, her fingers trailing along the wall to guide her. Understandably she was furious; he hadn't been happy with the request when it had been made and had known that he would face a fight. Although he had not spent much time with his daughter through her life he knew her well enough to know that fighting fire with fire was not wise at this point. He watched as she prowled back and forth, waiting for her to speak. Eventually she did, not ceasing her pacing.

"I'm a woman, Father, not a performing monkey." She almost spat the words.

"I understand that you're angry; but he is the King, if we refuse him..."

"He'll what? Throw a tantrum?" Her hair flew as she spun.

"For want of a better phrase; yes. I'm sorry, Eleanor, I tried to dissuade him but once the Cardinal has put an idea in his head..." She stopped pacing, her jaw set as she seemed to consider his words. After a moment she took a deep breath and spoke again.

"Fine, I'll do it, if only to make your life a little easier." Treville breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

"I'll need someone I can trust, not a court fop or an idiotic oaf." He could hear the note of disdain in her voice.

"I'll find you someone."

"One of your musketeers?" Her tone had a mocking note to it, but then again, it often did when she was angry.

"I have one in mind."

"Fine." She was still not happy but she had conceded which was the best he could hope for. He looked at her as he moved towards the door; she was glorious when she was angry, all fire and fury and a bearing worthy of royalty, just like her mother. He sighed and opened the door, preparing himself for the next fight.

"Athos." The musketeer in question glanced up, fixing Treville with a steady gaze. His face betrayed nothing as he rose from the bench and made his way up the stairs, ignoring the barely controlled laughter of his friends and a barely concealed comment from Aramis about "Heading into the lion's den."

When Athos entered the office Treville had moved to stand behind his desk, leaning his hands on it, tension showing visibly in his shoulders and arms. Eleanor stood by the wall, her face stony and her eyes hard. Athos was certain that he'd seen softer looking statues. Unable to guess what had passed between father and daughter, Athos stood straight, his hat in his hands and waited for his Captain to speak.

"Athos, the King has asked to see Eleanor dance, apparently he finds it highly fascinating that she can and wants to watch. There is a ball in three weeks time; he wants her to dance there." He paused, watching his best soldier. "The only thing is; she needs someone to dance with who can be trusted."

"Sir, I..." Athos trailed off, taken aback. He was prepared for his Captain to ask almost anything of him but this was both unexpected and unwelcome. "I left that life behind me a long time ago."

"And I am asking you to revisit it for a few moments for the sake of my daughter and my sanity." Treville was clearly unhappy and his resignation showed in his voice. "She needs someone who can be trusted to lead her through a dance properly and not leave her looking like a fool for the Cardinal to laugh at."

"Do not think that you are the only one who is unhappy with this, Monsieur." Eleanor's voice cut through the air like a blade. "I have no desire to indulge the King in a childish whim but it seems I must." She moved across the room, her fingers finding the desk just before she reached it.

"Will you do it?" Athos glanced at Treville, surprised that his Captain had asked rather than ordered.

"Yes, Sir." He watched as Treville's shoulders sagged in relief.

"Thank you; I'll put you on light duties for the next week, give you plenty of time to practice." They both turned as Eleanor made a noise somewhat resembling a growl and turned, stalking across the room and finding the door with surprising ease. Treville closed his eyes as she wrenched it open and then slammed it shut behind her. They heard her speaking to Anna and the voices of the two women fading as they left the garrison. Treville sighed before looking back at Athos. "She's understandably unhappy, being used for the King's amusement is not appealing to her."

"Nor I, Sir."

"I know, but you are the only one I could trust for this; although most of our regiment is made up of minor nobility who all had dancing masters I don't think any of them could handle her when she's in a rage, she'd tear them to pieces." He sat down and rubbed his eyes.

"Her anger is justified, Sir. She may be blind, but that does not make her a source for amusement." Treville looked up at him, something akin to surprise on his face.

"You never know, with that sentiment you may just get through to her. She'll calm down in a few hours, go over to the house this evening and see if she'll practice with you. She loves to dance so with any luck her enjoyment may just overtake her rage."

It was with slight trepidation that Athos knocked on the door of Treville's house. He was uncertain of the reception that he would get and God help him if she was still in a rage. He did not have Aramis' easy way with words, nor Porthos' shy charm. In fact he had not really conversed properly with a woman since Ninon. Although he had not spoken to Eleanor much he could already tell that she was as unlike Ninon as fire was to ice. They shared the same strong will, but where Ninon was cool and regal in her manner, her fine breeding apparent in every word and gesture, Eleanor was fiery, her rage untempered.

He remembered something his father had once told him. "_Beware red headed women, my boy. No matter how calm they seem there is always fire running through their blood. The Lord was kind enough to show it in their hair by way of a warning."_

"Damned chestnut mares." He muttered under his breath, sighing as he waited. Eventually he heard footsteps and he tipped his hat as Anna opened the door.

"Good evening, Madame; is Madame Ardoin home?" The woman looked at him shrewdly, her face crinkling in a knowing smile.

"You mean has she calmed down and will she dance with you aye? Well you'd better come in."

"Is she..?" He trailed off, uncertain of how to phrase it and Anna chuckled.

"Calm? Yes. Happy? No. But she will do as her father has asked." She turned and bustled down the hall, beckoning him to follow her. She led him through the house to the dining room and left him there. The room was large and the table had been pushed against one wall, leaving the floor clear.

Athos had only been waiting a few moments when he heard soft footsteps. He turned as Eleanor entered the room and quickly reviewed his previous opinion. As she stepped into the room, her bearing was as regal as any Queen. The candle light shone softly on her fiery hair and illuminated her marble skin. He was relieved to see that her expression had softened a little to neutral as opposed to that of a fury.

"Madame Ardoin." He removed his hat and her head turned towards him as he spoke.

"Monsieur." Her tone was civil if not overly welcoming. "We cleared the room; I hope it will serve."

"It will."

"I suppose we had best begin then." Her resigned tone saddened him and he had stepped forwards before he knew it.

"Madame, I would like you to know that, although I have been ordered to do this, I do not, in any way believe that the King is right to ask this of you." A brief look of surprise crossed her face before she spoke.

"You will still do it though." Her tone was still resigned.

"Only at the request of the Captain; I cannot refuse him." She smiled sadly and nodded.

"Nor I."

"Then let us begin."

It did not take Athos long to work out that this was not like any dancing he had ever taken part in. Eleanor needed to be carefully guided in regards to where he stood. Movements, steps and turns had to be precise so as not to disorient her. Thankfully and somewhat surprisingly; she proved to be a patient teacher, carefully helping him to both remember what he had almost forgotten and to learn new things.

As Treville had predicted it did not take long for her natural enjoyment to show and when Athos lifted her for the first time she smiled so brightly that he could only liken it to the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

The night had grown dark by the time Athos made his way to the tavern and wove his way through the crowd to the table where his friends were sat. They had seen him coming and as he sat down Porthos pushed a glass of wine towards him.

"So how was Madame Ardoin?" Aramis smirked as he spoke, ignoring the glare that Athos shot him.

"Well she must have calmed down." Porthos chuckled and took a gulp of his wine.

"What do you mean by that?" At Athos' tone, Porthos choked and had the grace to look repentant.

"Well you're still in one piece."

"I think they mean she's hot tempered." D'Artagnan interjected helpfully and Athos thought for a moment before nodding.

"Well I suppose she is red headed."

"Ah now that my friend is where you have missed something." Aramis grinned as three pairs of eyes turned to him.

"Aye?" Porthos furrowed his brow in confusion.

"She is not just a red head."

"Explain." Athos was growing bored.

"One." Aramis held up a finger. "She is a woman."

"Well we'd figured that out." Porthos raised an eyebrow and Aramis glared before continuing.

"They are tricky creatures at best. Two; as previously stated, she is a red head and they are notoriously difficult to handle, much like bombs with five second fuses."

"Anything else?" Athos drained his glass and reached for the bottle.

"Finally and most importantly she is from Gascony and therefore has a temper shorter than courtesans' skirts."

"Hey." They laughed at d'Artagnan's indignation and Porthos clapped the boy on the shoulder.

"You can't deny it, boy."

"No I can't which is why Athos had better watch out next time she's in a temper; she might yet tear him apart." They laughed as Athos sighed and drunk his wine, wondering what he had ever done to be stuck with such idiots.

Over the next three weeks Athos returned to the house each evening. With each visit Eleanor greeted him a little more warmly. By the end of the first week her face was no longer stony when he arrived. During the second week he was shocked when she greeted him with a warm smile. They would practice all evening, her hands feather light on his as they moved back and forth across the room. She grew to trust him, allowing her to guide her through the steps of the dance without hesitation and she no longer tensed when he placed his hands on her waist to lift her. During each practice, Anna would bring them wine. Initially they would drink without speaking, the silences cold and awkward, but over the weeks, Eleanor warmed to him and would even strike up the occasional conversation. After each practice session Athos would join his brothers in the tavern and ignore their good natured comments about playing with fire.

They had two days until the ball and the night was warm, Athos was in his shirt sleeves having long since discarded his leather jerkin. Their dancing had increased in speed; the fast turns and lifts leaving them both breathing hard. They were relieved when Anna brought them wine and they stood, drinking it in a not uncomfortable silence. After a few moments Eleanor put her glass down and spoke hesitantly.

"Monsieur, would you permit me to see you?" Athos frowned at her; confused.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I would like to know what the man I am dancing with looks like; but to know that I would need to touch you and I have found that it is better to ask first." Her voice was soft and she had a slight nervousness about her, as though fearful that her request might be refused. Athos could not prevent a small smile.

"I would be no gentleman at all if I were to refuse a lady such a request." She smiled and he put his glass down, unsure what to expect as she reached out a hand.

The tips of her fingers brushed the back of his hand briefly then travelled up his arm, tickling his skin through his shirt. He stayed perfectly still as her fingers slipped over the lace of his shirt collar and traced over the skin of his neck, pausing for a moment over his pulse. Slowly Eleanor stepped towards him, reducing the distance so that her body almost touched his and Athos could feel her breath through the open neck of his shirt. She raised her other hand and he felt her run her light touch over the line of his jaw. Her hands slipped up into his hair, and he felt her comb her fingers through it. Carefully, slowly she traced her way down his face, her lips parted in concentration as she built an idea in her mind of what he looked like. One hand brushed softly across his cheek and he had to stop himself twitching as she ran a finger down his nose. Slowly she ran her thumb over his lips, gently tracing the faint scar and Athos swallowed, fighting to stay still under her touch. After a few more moments she pulled her hands away and smiled. For a moment Athos could still feel her touch on his skin and shook himself.

"Thank you, Monsieur. Now I have an idea of what you look like."

"Then I apologise, for there are many with more pleasing features than I."

"Then you have a very low opinion of yourself for I would not have said that." She tilted her head and one corner of her mouth tilted up in a crooked smile.

"You are being kind I think, Madame."

"Please, call me Eleanor."

"As you wish." She smiled and they finished the wine before continuing their dancing.

Neither of them noticed Anna as she watched from the hallway.

* * *

**Well there we go, hope you like. Much love and imaginary cookies for reviews :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well here we are then, another chapter. Many thanks to Merick for the wonderful review and to 'guest' for the very enthusiastic request to update.**

**Hope you like.**

* * *

The day before the ball Treville listened as the King demanded the highest level of security to ensure the safety of his guests. He watched the bright sunlight dance across the floor, thinking black clouds would have been better suited to his mood. He roused himself, suddenly aware that Louis was awaiting a response.

"I assure you, Sire, the musketeers will be both inside and outside the palace; they will guard against anything that might come." He suppressed a sigh of exasperation; the King was the same before every ball and function.

"I do hope so, Treville. I don't want anything to spoil this ball; could you imagine how annoying it would be if we didn't get to watch your daughter dance; I am quite looking forward to it as the highlight of my evening."

"She is looking forward to dancing for the King I presume." The Cardinal's silky tone grated on Treville like sand in a wound and he resisted the urge to punch the man.

"She is ready to do as she has been asked." He bowed as the King dismissed him, trying desperately not to grit his teeth too visibly or look at the smirking face of the Cardinal as he turned away and headed down the corridor.

"Captain Treville." A voice sounded behind him and he turned, surprised to see the Queen standing behind him.

"Your Majesty." He bowed low, unsure as to what she might want.

"Your daughter will need a dress for the ball. One of my ladies has the perfect one that she can borrow."

"My thanks, Majesty." Treville did not know what else to say; he had always known the Queen to be a gentle, kind soul, but this act of generosity was unlooked for and unexpected. The Queen stepped forwards and placed a slim hand gently on his arm.

"I wish I could have stopped this ordeal for her and for you."

"Once the King had the idea there was no stopping him."

"The Cardinal more likely than the King I think." The dislike in her voice was not quite concealed.

"I think she'll do fine."

"I hope so. I will arrange for the dress to be sent." He bowed low and she turned away, leaving him marvelling at her kindness.

Constance carefully adjusted the corset on the dress that the Queen had leant Eleanor. The girl stood quietly, allowing her to do what was required. Isabelle, one of the other ladies had not been pleased at being told to lend the dress out but as Constance looked at the girl in front of her, she thought that the dress was far more suited to its current wearer.

"The Queen wishes that you didn't have to do this, she said she would have stopped it if she was able."

"She is kindness itself." Eleanor's voice was quiet.

"There, all done." Constance finished tying the last ribbon and stepped back to admire her handiwork. "If it helps at all, you look beautiful." She was rewarded with a smile and pitied the girl in front of her.

Athos followed the Captain as they made their way to collect Eleanor for the ball. Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan were already at the palace with the rest of the regiment, guarding against any danger to the King and Queen or their guests.

Anna opened the door and they followed her to the dining room which was empty.

"Is she ready?" Treville gazed steadily at the woman and she raised an eyebrow at him before clucking her tongue.

"She will be, you wait here, and I'll go and see." She levelled her gaze at them, daring them to contradict her and nodded approvingly when they took of their hats and stood quietly. Treville smiled and shook his head as she bustled off.

"Best do as we're told." He placed his hat on the table, leaning back in the chair. "I always forget how long it takes for a woman to get ready."

"I believe it is their prerogative, Sir." Treville gave a snort of laughter and Athos sat down, preparing himself to wait.

They heard footsteps and stood as Anna entered, leading Eleanor behind her. As she stepped into the room Athos caught his breath. The dress the Queen had leant her was finely cut, her already slender waist pulled in by the bodice and wide silk skirts that flowed and rippled as she moved. The emerald green fabric contrasted perfectly with her fair skin and red hair and delicate silver embroidery caught the candlelight. Anna had brushed her hair until it shone and pinned it up, leaving loose curls tumbling around her face.

Treville stepped forwards to greet his daughter and Anna stepped away, moving across the room. It was only when she dug her elbow into his ribs that Athos realised his mouth was open. Promptly he shut it before Treville could see and tried his hardest to ignore Anna's grin.

They made their way to the palace, joining the throngs of lords, ladies and courtiers already there. In the bright, noisy ballroom Athos saw his friends on guard, already standing at the edges of the crowd, their sharp eyes watching for anything amiss. Treville was beckoned over by the King and touched Eleanor on the shoulder, excusing himself and leaving her in Athos' care.

"Can I interest you in a glass of wine?" Athos spoke quietly to her.

"You can indeed." She sounded relieved and he quickly fetched two glasses, carefully placing one in her hand.

They moved through the room, her hand resting lightly on his arm. As they moved, Athos saw mens' eyes following Eleanor; he could not blame them, for tonight she was especially beautiful. It did not take long for people to approach them; curious about the girl they had never seen at court who was escorted by a musketeer. On the most part they were fascinated, much like the King and gathered around the pair. Eleanor smiled and conversed politely, betraying nothing; but every once in a while Athos felt her grip on his arm tighten.

Treville saw the Queen beckon him over and moved to stand beside her. She glanced at him briefly before turning her gaze back to the crowds in the room.

"Your daughter looks beautiful tonight, Captain."

"That is thanks in part to your generosity, your Majesty."

"The dress suits her." Anne watched as the girl conversed quietly with Athos.

"I'm sure she would like the opportunity to thank you herself."

"Yes I would very much like to talk with her." They turned as the King stood and the room fell silent.

"My dear guests, tonight we have something wonderful to see; the blind daughter of Captain Treville will dance with Athos the musketeer." He grinned, clapping his hands and the hall was filled with applause as the floor was cleared. Louis gestured at Athos and all eyes turned to them as he led Eleanor to the middle of the floor. A moment later the musicians began to play.

Aramis watched as Eleanor curtsied to Athos and he bowed before taking her by the hand. As they moved across the floor, their feet light, Aramis noted how Athos almost never broke contact with Eleanor, even if just their fingertips were touching. He watched as Athos stepped back and Eleanor spun gracefully, her skirts flying in waves of green, Athos caught her hand as she stopped and a sound of exclamation echoed through the hall as Athos put his hands on her waist and lifted her high before setting her gently on her feet. They continued to dance, enthralling everyone as they moved together. By the time Eleanor curtsied to Athos once more and he bowed in return, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted, whether from exertion or something else, Aramis was not certain.

Athos turned to face the thrones, his gentle touch guiding Eleanor. He bowed and Eleanor sank into a low curtsey. The King burst into gleeful applause, closely followed by the rest of the hall. Treville did not miss that the Cardinal barely touched his hands together.

"I never knew he could be so graceful." Porthos sounded amazed.

"Me neither." Aramis watched as his friend led Eleanor away from the floor. "But I suppose you don't wield a sword like he does without at least a measure of grace."

"Fair point." They watched as courtiers crowded Athos and Eleanor once more and Aramis saw Treville watching them also.

Treville watched as Athos and Eleanor stood in the centre of a crowd of chattering guests. He studied the pair carefully. They each showed an outward countenance that was calm and polite, yet he could see signs that he recognised in each of them as warnings. There was a set to Athos' shoulders that only appeared when he was exercising more iron self control than normal and Eleanor's polite smiles did not reach her eyes. Quickly he slipped through the crowds until he reached them and addressed the courtiers that surrounded them.

"You will have to forgive them; the Queen has asked to speak to them." Ignoring the disappointed looks, Treville turned away and Athos and Eleanor followed close behind.

"Did she really, Father?" Eleanor was relieved but there was also a hint of amusement in her tone.

"Well she didn't ask to see you at this exact moment in time but I'm sure she won't mind." It pleased him to see her smile and he took her arm as they approached the thrones. They stopped just in front of the Queen and at a gentle squeeze of Treville's hand, Eleanor sunk into a deep curtsey.

"The dress looks well on you, Eleanor."

"My thanks for your kindness in lending it, Majesty."

"I enjoyed that immensely." The King was grinning inanely. "Who would have thought that a soldiers' daughter could be so graceful, don't you think Cardinal?"

"Indeed, Madame Ardoin was very...elegant." The Cardinal's pause was exquisitely timed and he smiled coldly. Athos bristled internally at the insult and saw Treville's jaw clench.

"Indeed she was, wasn't she?" The king grinned, missing the Cardinal's insult. Athos glanced at Eleanor and saw her smile sweetly.

"Indeed I find that being able to dance elegantly can lend one an elegance of character; perhaps his eminence should try it." The King grinned and Athos tried not to smirk as the Cardinal bristled.

"Well she has the measure of you, Armand. Enjoy the rest of the ball, Madame Ardoin." He waved his hand, dismissing them and Treville took Eleanor's hand, leading her away from the thrones.

As they moved back across the room, Treville turned to Athos. "If you'll excuse us for a moment, Athos; I need a moment with my daughter." His tone was calm but there was an underlying tension that brooked no argument. Athos inclined his head and moved swiftly back to where he could see Aramis and Porthos at the edge of the room. His friends greeted him with smiles and Porthos clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Once again my friend, you astound us all." Aramis' tone was one of quiet admiration.

"I merely did as I was ordered" Athos face was expressionless, his eyes fixed on where Treville and Eleanor stood.

"Well it made the evening more interesting, if nothing else we got to see her put the Cardinal in his place." Porthos could barely suppress a grin; he glanced at Aramis, rolling his eyes as he followed his friend's gaze towards the almost indecently low neckline of a passing duchess.

Treville led Eleanor through the crowd, guiding her away from curious nobles. Finally he spoke, his voice low and furious.

"I told you not to antagonise him" He nodded at a passing guest, fighting to keep his fury from his face.

"I don't care if he is the most powerful man in France; I will not stand and smile sweetly while he insults me for his own amusement." Although her face was neutral, her eyes were hard. She abruptly fell silent as Treville squeezed her hand in warning.

"Captain Treville, what a pleasure." The voice Eleanor heard was a silky drawl, the tone polite but the underlying disdain clear.

"Rochefort." Treville's reply was clipped and barely civil, he looked away for just a second, flicking his gaze towards where Athos, Porthos and Aramis stood.

"An enchanting dance, Madame." His cold eyes roved over Eleanor, assessing and calculating. Eleanor inclined her head gracefully as though in thanks but kept her expression carefully neutral; she had heard the distaste in her fathers' voice and there was something about Rochefort's tone that set her on edge.

Before Rochefort could say anything else Athos appeared, summoned by Treville's glance. He swept his gaze over Rochefort, allowing his nobility to show through for just a moment. At a nod from Treville he reached out, placing a gentle hand on Eleanor's arm and guiding her away. She went willingly, recognising his touch and taking comfort in it.

It was late after the ball had finished and the guests had left or retired to their rooms but a light still burned in the Cardinals' office. He sat at his desk, resting his chin on steepled fingers as he regarded Rochefort carefully.

"You're sure it was about her?"

"Her name is throughout Paris and she's easy to find; there can be no mistake."

"For your sake I hope so. Do not be so rash as to assume there is no room for mistakes." The Cardinal fixed Rochefort with a stare that gave the clear message that mistakes would not be tolerated.

"What would you like to do?" Rochefort folded his arms and leant against the wall, watching as the Cardinal rose, moving across the room to the window.

"Captain Treville clearly loves his daughter." the Cardinal gazed out of the window, his expression thoughtful.

"It would appear so." It was not a concept Rochefort had any interest in at all. He had three bastard children in France that he knew about and had not a shred of care for any of them.

"I would imagine that if anything were to happen to her then it would break him."

"Leaving you as sole influence."

"Precisely." The Cardinal turned, a cold smile on his face. "Do nothing; if this happens it will work in our favour but I will not dirty my hands with it." He turned, waving a hand to dismiss Rochefort and sweeping from the room.

Rochefort thought about the girl as he made his way back to his rooms, she had been distant and aloof, barely speaking a single word to him. He despised Treville and his musketeers and this girl was no better, a true daughter of Treville. For all that though, she was beautiful with skin like cream and hair like fire. He imagined for a moment what it would be like to break her fiery spirit and bend her to his will. He closed his hand, wondering how it would feel to close his fingers around her throat and watch the distress in her blind eyes as he crushed her slender neck. A small smile formed on his face as he thought about it, yes he would enjoy that very much.

* * *

**Well there we go, hope you enjoyed it. Reviews much appreciated :-)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys sorry for the long gap between chapters, the plot bunny ran away. Thank you to merick, Cedarbrick and TheseWordsAreUnspoken for the reviews on the last chapter.**

* * *

The air was warm and Eleanor relished the feel of sunlight on her skin as Anna led her through the market. The streets were busy and the air was humming with the sound of people; footsteps on the cobbles, voices of traders shouting their wares and people haggling over prices. After the previous night of being the centre of attention at the court it felt good to be just one more in a crowd. She waited and listened as Anna haggled for something, smiling as the woman wore the trader down to a lower price.

They turned to continue along the street and had not gone more than a few steps when Eleanor felt someone crash into her, almost knocking her from her feet. She heard Anna shouting after them, scolding them for their carelessness. Eleanor reached out a hand, seeking to calm the woman before she worked herself up into a fury.

"Anna, it's alright."

"Careless oaf, he should not be running on such a crowded street." She placed her hands on Eleanor's arms and the girl could feel her scrutiny. "Are you hurt, child?"

"No I don't think...ouch." Eleanor flinched as she felt pain across the back of her wrist and ran her fingers across the skin. She felt warm stickiness and heard Anna cluck her tongue in disapproval.

"Stupid oaf must have been holding something sharp; he's sliced your wrist open. Come along, let's get you home and get that seen to." She clucked her tongue once more and led her charge through the streets.

Eleanor sat at the table, absentmindedly rubbing the back of her wrist; although Anna had washed and dressed the cut it throbbed with a constant, dull ache. Despite the warm air that flowed through the window she shivered a little. Footsteps sounded and a moment later Anna bustled through the door.

"Here you are, my dear." Eleanor heard Anna place a plate on the table in front of her and a moment later the scent of stewed meat wafted through the air. Ordinarily she would of enjoyed the smell but today it made her feel nauseous. She placed a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to fight the sickening feeling.

"Are you alright, child? You've gone whiter than a sheet." In an instant Anna was beside her, a motherly hand resting on her head.

"You'll have to forgive me, Anna; I don't think I can eat dinner today."

"You don't look fit to eat anything. You'll go to bed at once and rest; come along, you'll feel better in the morning." Eleanor said nothing and merely allowed Anna to lead her to her room and help her to bed. She was already sleeping when Anna closed the door.

Athos and Porthos strolled through the streets, the early morning sunlight offering little warmth. They paused at one house, leaning against a wall to wait as Aramis hauled himself from the bed of a young comtess he had met at the ball. After a short while he appeared, pushing his hat onto his head and a rakish grin on his face. Athos sighed and pushed himself away from the wall, the others falling into step beside him as they made their way to the garrison. As they rounded a corner they were stunned to see Anna running towards them, at full tilt. She almost crashed into Porthos and stood in front of them, gasping for breath.

"Whoa there, what's the hurry?" The big musketeer took her arm, steadying her.

"It's the young mistress; she's sick, I can't wake her." She looked at the musketeers as they exchanged glances.

"Take us to her." Aramis had lost all trace of his former grin.

"Porthos, inform the captain." Athos noted that for once the big musketeer did not grumble at having to be the one to tell Treville bad news. Instead he nodded and turned at a run. "Madame, let us go."

They followed Anna through the streets, arriving at the house at a run. Quickly she led them through the house and up the stairs. She opened a door, ushering them in and they realised why Anna had come to find them. Eleanor lay in her bed, unmoving, a maid bathing her head with a damp cloth.

"How is she?" Aramis tossed his hat to one side, making his way swiftly round to the other side of the bed.

"She still hasn't woken, Sir." The maid looked on the verge of tears and Aramis gently placed a hand on hers, his expression kind.

"I will do all I can to help her." The girl looked up him, her blue eyes wide and Anna stepped forwards.

"You can go now, Alice." Her voice was firm but not unkind and the maid nodded, glancing once more at Aramis before leaving the room.

Aramis sat on the side of the bed, his dark eyes fixed on Eleanor. Her normally fair skin was pale, the usual rose flush in her cheeks gone. He placed a hand on her cheek, it was cold; if he had not seen the shallow rise and fall of her breaths he might have thought her gone. Carefully he pressed his fingers against her neck, his concern mounting when he could barely feel the flutter of life. He watched her still face as he thought, running through all the medical knowledge he possessed to try and find an answer. A thought struck him and he looked up sharply.

"When did this start?"

"She started to look unwell at dinner yesterday so I put her to bed. She was sleeping when I left her last night."

"Is there any way that something could have been put into her food?"

"She ate nothing and I prepare all her meals myself, it's not possible." Anna stopped abruptly and her eyes narrowed as she realised what Aramis had meant. "Are you saying she has been poisoned?"

"It's the only thing I can think of." He glanced at Athos, the elder musketeer had not moved since they had entered the room but had stood and watched, sharp eyes taking in every detail. Suddenly he moved, striding to side of the bed and reaching across, gently grasping Eleanor's arm where the edge of a bandage showed above the covers. He pulled her arm towards him, examining the wrapping that covered her wrist before glancing back at Anna.

"What's this?"

"Some fool ran into her in the market and sliced her wrist open." The musketeers glanced at each other before Athos began to carefully unwrap the bandage, quickly exposing the cut. He heard Anna gasp as he pulled the last cloth away and it was easy to see why she had; the cut was red and angry and he did not need to touch it to feel the heat.

"It would seem that what happened at the market was no accident." He raised his eyes to meet Aramis' gaze; the other musketeer's face was grim.

Before any of them could say anything else they heard what sounded like a stampede on the stairs and a moment later the door burst open to reveal Treville, closely followed by Porthos and d'Artagnan. A flash of horror crossed his face as he saw his daughter and Athos shifted quickly out of the way as the Captain crossed the room.

"What's wrong with her?" He directed his question at Aramis.

"As far as I can tell she's been poisoned, Sir."

"Poisoned?"

"It seems someone bumped into her at the market and gave her this." Aramis indicated the cut.

"Can you save her?"

"I'm not skilled with poisons, Sir. But I know a physician who is."

"Bring him." Treville's order was terse and Aramis leapt to his feet and left the room without another word, taking Porthos with him.

Athos and d'Artagnan watched as Treville began to pace the room, running a hand over his close cropped hair.

"Sit down, Captain." Athos' firm tone caught Treville off guard and he stopped dead, staring at his musketeer dumbly. Athos merely raised an eyebrow and inclined his head towards the chair beside the bed. To d'Artagnan's surprise, Treville didn't argue but sat heavily in the chair, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his eyes fixed on his daughter's ashen face.

"Who would do this?" His voice was quiet disbelief, all his calm reasoning gone.

"Someone with a grudge against you, perhaps." When Treville looked up sharply, Athos continued. "It is no secret that she is in Paris, thanks to the King's fascination with her. If someone wanted to attack you then what better way than through her?" The Captain nodded and sighed.

"I suppose I've made enough enemies over the years." Although he had known the risk in bringing her to Paris he could still scarcely believe that someone would stoop so low as to attack his daughter.

"We'll find out who it is." D'Artagnan and Treville looked at Athos sharply. They knew that he rarely made promises, especially ones such as this. They were difficult to keep and he was not a man to break his word. Treville did not know what to say, he knew Athos to be fiercely loyal and protective but the man seldom voiced it. He was saved the trouble of a reply when the door burst open and Aramis ran in, followed by a small, flustered looking man and Porthos.

He did not bother with introductions but hurried forwards, barely waiting for Treville to move before making his way to the side of the bed. He placed a hand on Eleanor's head before looking at her hand. They watched as he sniffed the cut and muttered to himself as he pressed his fingers to her wrist. Finally he straightened, running a hand over his balding head, his pale eyes narrowed in concern.

"Well your man was right, she's been poisoned."

"Can you treat it?" Treville's stare was hard in an effort to disguise the worry.

"It would be easier if she had ingested it but yes I believe I can." He held out a hand and Porthos stepped forwards, handing him a leather satchel. Quickly he rummaged through it and pulled out a small bottle and beaker. Carefully he measured some of the liquid from the bottle into the beaker before placing the bottle back into his bag and pulling out several cloth bags.

"Get her to drink that." He glanced up at Anna who hovered in the doorway. "Madame, I need a pestle and mortar, also hot water."

"Come to the kitchen, doctor." He nodded and followed her, leaving the musketeers alone.

Treville picked up the beaker, looking doubtfully at the dark liquid as he swirled it. They watched as he gently slid an arm under Eleanor's shoulders and lifted her, carefully sliding to sit beside her. Gently he placed the beaker to her lips and trickled a drop of the liquid into her mouth. She moaned softly, turning her head away. He murmured quietly to her and persisted gently, pressing the cup to her lips once more. Slowly, carefully he gave his daughter the rest, drop by drop and each time they were relieved when her throat moved as she swallowed.

Treville had just put the empty beaker back on the table and settled Eleanor back against the bolster when the door opened and the physician entered, clutching a small stone bowl filled with a sweet smelling paste. He made his way back over to the bed, nodding approvingly at the empty beaker. Carefully he smeared the paste over the cut on Eleanor's wrist and wrapped it once more in clean bandages. After a while longer he stood and began to pack his things back into his bag.

"She may develop a fever in the next day or so; it will show us that her body is fighting."

"Will she live?" Treville's voice was quiet, almost pleading and the physician sighed, looking on the Captain with a gentle pity.

"I'm afraid that there is a chance she might and a chance she might not. I have done all I can, the rest is up to her." Treville's shoulders slumped and the physician picked up his bag, he paused by the bed and turned, glancing at Treville where he sat motionless. "Fetch me if she really takes a turn for the worse, but I warn you it may well seem far worse before it gets better." He turned for the door, shaking his head and Aramis followed. The others could hear the low murmur of their voices as they descended the stairs.

Athos glanced at Treville and sighed, he turned, catching Porthos' eye and inclined his head towards the door, the unspoken message clear. Porthos nodded and with one last glance at their Captain, turned and left the room, taking d'Artagnan with him. Athos turned to Treville, the man still had not moved; he sat still as stone, his face pale and his eyes fixed on Eleanor's face.

"Captain." Treville did not move and Athos wondered for a moment if the man had heard him. He was just about to speak again when the Captain stirred.

"He said she might not survive."

"And he said she might; she's strong"

"What if she's not strong enough?"

"She is." Athos was taken aback; he had never seen Treville so unsure, the man was the solid base on which the Musketeer unit was built on and the example they all looked up to. His word was law and they loved and feared him; because the one thing he never did was falter. Athos squared his shoulders and stepped forward. "We will watch her, Captain, and ensure no further harm comes to her."

Treville looked up at him and Athos could see the war in his face. He wanted his daughter protected and would have liked to watch her himself. But his unruly regiment still needed their commander much as schoolboys needed their master. He sighed, he knew also that if he stayed away from the court then the Cardinal would whisper into the King's ear and spread his poison and heaven only knew what trouble Rochefort would cause. No he could not guard her himself and although he hated to admit it his duty to his King came first. Finally he nodded.

"Alright, you take shifts, two of you here at all times, the others looking for whoever did this. Make sure Aramis is always here; he'll know what to do if..." He paused, unable to phrase the next words.

"I'll see to it." Treville sighed and nodded before rising from his chair and gently laying a hand on Eleanor's hair before moving towards the door. Athos opened it for him and stood aside before following him out.

Porthos and d'Artagnan stood on the landing outside, leaning against the rail and Athos moved to join them as Treville made his way to the stairs. As he reached the top step the Captain turned, looking up to meet Athos' gaze. The musketeer nodded once, giving his silent assurance that they would watch over Eleanor.

They watched as he made his way down the stairs, he passed Aramis on the way and the musketeer nodded in respect before making his way up to the landing where his friends stood. Athos waited until he heard the door close before he spoke.

"He's asked us to stay with her."

"Probably for the best." Porthos grunted. "Don't think I've ever seen him that shaken up."

"Hardly surprising, his daughter's been attacked." D'Artagnan's tone was dry.

"One of us can check on him in the morning. Aramis, what did the physician tell you?" The Spaniard looked sharply at Athos before shaking his head. He should have known that although he could conceal his worry from Treville, Athos could read him like a book, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

"I asked him if there was anything else we could do to help her." Aramis' voice was quiet.

"And..." Porthos turned, scrutinising his friend.

"He said to pray for her." At Aramis' words, Athos sighed and closed his eyes. Every physician he had come across only ever suggested prayer when there was little hope. One glance at the others told him that they were thinking the exact same thing. After a moment he became aware of their gazes on him, waiting for his leadership.

"Alright, we'll watch her as we said we would, at least one of us with her at all times and the other two looking for the culprit. Aramis, the Captain wants you to stay here in case anything happens. I'll take first watch." The others nodded and Porthos made his way down the stairs, followed by d'Artagnan. Aramis hesitated on the top step, watching Athos as he turned and made his way into Eleanor's room. After a moment he shook his head and turned, following his friends.

* * *

**Hope you liked it, much love for reviews xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys, sorry it's been a while. Anyways, here's the next one. Thank you to TheseWordsAreUnspoken and merick for the reviews.**

* * *

Treville stood in the palace gardens, watching impatiently as the King shot bird after bird, grinning inanely as each one fell to the floor in a puff of feathers. He sensed the Cardinal watching him and did his best to ignore him. Eventually even the King noticed.

"Has Treville grown an extra head or something, Cardinal? I can't think of any other reason for you to watch him so intently."

"I was wondering at the absence of Captain Treville's usual four with him today. Instead he has brought these...others." The Cardinal's pause was exquisitely timed as he waved a hand dismissively at the musketeers that flanked Treville.

"They are elsewhere today, but I assure you that these men are as capable as any musketeer in the regiment."

"Ah yes...capable." The Cardinal smirked and Treville saw Rochefort suppressing a smile.

"Out of interest, where are they?" Rochefort's quiet voice slipped into the conversation like a snake. Treville sighed, although he didn't have to answer to Rochefort the king was watching intently and it was clear he expected an answer.

"My daughter was attacked in the street yesterday and poisoned. She is fighting for her life and my men are trying to find out who did it lest they prove a threat to anyone else."

"You mean that you have King's musketeers playing nursemaid to your daughter and running around on your personal errands?" Rochefort's face was the perfect picture of outrage and Treville gripped the hilt of his sword in an effort not to punch the man.

"Now now, Rochefort." The King had stepped forwards and held up a hand. "If a poisoner is running around in my city then we want them stopped, we can't have ladies being attacked in the street, especially such rare creatures as Madame Ardoin." He stopped Rochefort's angry protest with a look and turned to Treville, placing an arm about his shoulders and moving a few paces away from the others. "Is your daughter very sick, Treville?"

"She is on a knife edge, Majesty."

"Then I cannot think of any better men than those four to protect her but make sure the culprit is hunted down, I don't want them in the city."

"I'll see to it, Sire." The King nodded and smiled before turning away and Treville stared after him. Sometimes the man surprised him with a show of maturity and kindness. It was at times like these when he thought there might be some hope for him yet.

It had just begun to grow dark in the small room and d'Artagnan watched as Anna moved softly around the room lighting candles and bathing the room in a soft, flickering glow. She paused, gazing at Eleanor where she lay unmoving, d'Artagnan thought for a moment that she might be about to speak. She turned as footsteps sounded on the stairs and a moment later the door opened and d'Artagnan rose to his feet as Treville entered the room.

"How is she?" He moved to the bed and d'Artagnan moved swiftly out of his way.

"No change, Sir." D'Artagnan watched as Treville sat beside the bed, resting one hand gently on Eleanor's fiery hair. Anna blew out her taper and slipped quietly from the room, closing the door quietly behind her. When she was gone, Treville spoke, his voice barely audible.

"What if she's not strong enough for this?"

"I believe she is, Sir; she's not giving up yet so it's hardly fair to give up on her." Treville looked up sharply and d'Artagnan wondered for a moment if he'd gone too far. "She's your daughter, have faith that she might be stronger than you think." He sighed and sat opposite the Captain and settled to wait.

Porthos settled into the seat next to the bed just as the first rays of dawn entered the room. He thought he saw a faint blush of colour on Eleanor's cheek and glanced out the window as the sky lightened to dusky pink. A faint moan turned his attention back to the bed. Eleanor's skin had flushed and as he watched she moaned again, her head shifting from side to side. Gently he placed a hand on her cheek and was unsurprised at the heat that radiated from her skin.

"There's that fever." He reached for the cloth that floated in a bowl of water on the table and gently brushed it across the girls' head and cheek. "Good girl, you keep fighting." Eleanor moaned softly and he quieted her with soft murmurs.

They continued to take turns to watch Eleanor as she fought the poison, her body burning with fever. Each of them took up residence in the house, taking their turn to bathe her burning skin and soothe the fever dreams that plagued her. When they were not with Eleanor they combed the city, listening in taverns and questioning everyone they knew in an attempt to find some clue about what had happened. Thus far they had been without success. As they watched over Eleanor, so Anna watched over them; keeping them well supplied with food and drink and on occasion, shooing them to the beds she had set up for their use.

Treville visited at least once a day, the worry for his daughter showing on his face. He would sit with her, stroking her hair and murmuring softly, promising vengeance on those that had harmed her. Each time he came he would look at the four friends expectantly, demanding an update on their investigation and each time they shook their heads in apology and left the house more determined than ever to find the attacker.

Athos sat beside the bed watching Eleanor intently, blue eyes fixed on her face. Her body shifted and she moaned softly, her sweat soaked hair tangling across the bolster. It had been three days, nearly four since her fever had started. He knew, they all did that fevers could prove dangerous when they lasted this long. He sighed, running a hand over his face, listening to Eleanor's ragged breaths. He looked up sharply as her breath caught in a struggling gasp. As he watched she gasped again, her breath catching in her throat and her head tossing from side to side as she struggled for air, each breath becoming more difficult.

"Aramis." Athos' voice echoed through the house and a second later he heard footsteps thundering up the stairs. Aramis burst through the door, dark eyes sweeping over the room. He wasted no time in sliding onto the bed next to the choking girl, concern written across his features.

"Roll her towards you." His voice was terse and Athos grasped Eleanor's shoulder, pulling her towards him as Aramis slipped a hand onto her back, rubbing firmly. After a few moments the terrible, struggling breaths ceased, turning to short gasps as Eleanor desperately pulled air into her lungs.

"Shh, it's alright." Athos murmured quietly to Eleanor and Aramis watched as he gently brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across the girl's cheek. His touch gentle as he soothed her. After a few moments more she settled and Aramis ran a hand over his eyes before slipping gently back off of the bed. Athos looked up, his eyes worried.

"What was that?"

"I don't know; the distress of her fever perhaps." He looked at the girl, her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as she fought the poison in her blood, but he was satisfied that for the moment at least that she would continue to breathe. "We must watch and hope it does not happen again."

"You mean we must hope that the fever goes down."

"Yes that too." Running a hand over his eyes once more, the Spaniard slipped from the room, leaving his friend with the girl.

It was some time later as the dark of evening slipped into the house when Aramis entered the dining room in search of food and found d'Artagnan sitting at the table, a glass of wine in his hand.

"Why aren't you with Eleanor?" Aramis knew his tone was sharp but he could hardly believe that the boy was shirking his duties.

"I went up when my watch was supposed to start but Athos told me he would stay with her for a bit longer." He shrugged resignedly. "He gave me such a look that I wasn't planning on disturbing him again." Aramis sighed; he knew the kind of look that d'Artagnan meant; one that said _leave me be_. He also knew that the boy had been right, it was not wise to push Athos when he looked at one like that, but he reasoned; since when had he minded what was wise where his friends were concerned.

"Alright; I'll deal with him." Squaring his shoulders he turned and left the room, there was one thing he needed to do before facing Athos down.

Athos barely glanced up as the door opened; he knew from the light tread that it was Aramis. Gently he continued to wipe the damp cloth across Eleanor's burning skin, feeling the heat that almost scorched his fingertips.

"You do know that d'Artagnan's watch started two hours ago?"

"I'm aware of that; I told him I would stay." The tone was not one that Aramis would normally have ignored. He sighed and stepped forwards.

"What is it, my friend? You are going beyond your duty in your care of her." Athos looked up at him and just for a moment the mask that guarded his thoughts slipped, revealing worry and sadness in the blue eyes. After a split second the mask was back up and the gaze was steady once more.

"I have spent a great deal of time with her over the last few weeks; I would care if she died."

"Well that's not a crime. But you must rest; you will be no good to her at all if you are dead on your feet."

"I don't need to rest yet." Aramis sighed again, inwardly cursing the man for his stubbornness. He would swear that the most stubborn of mules had nothing on Athos.

"I thought you might say no to me; that's why I bought reinforcements." He reached back and opened the door, stepping to one side to reveal a frowning Anna.

"Right, come along, monsieur; the young man tells me that you will not rest."

"I assure you, Madame; I am quite alright." Anna crossed her arms and looked at him shrewdly.

"I think not; I will not leave the young mistress in the care of a man who looks so tired that a gust of wind might blow him over. Now come along, or I shall call your big friend to help me escort you." Her face darkened when he did not move and he sighed, realising why even the Captain did not cross this woman and knowing that this was not a battle he was going to win.

"Alright." He rose from the chair, suddenly becoming painfully aware of his cramped and aching muscles. Anna nodded and picked up his jerkin from where he had draped it over a chair. With one last glance at Eleanor he followed the housekeeper from the room and allowed her to lead him to the room along the hall. She watched as he lay on the bed and nodded in approval as exhaustion took over, sending him to sleep almost as soon as is head hit the bolster.

Aramis watched Anna lead Athos from the room, dark eyes following them intently. He paused at the door, looking at Eleanor as she moved restlessly in her fever. Shaking his head he turned and stepped out into the hallway and called for d'Artagnan. A moment later he heard light footsteps on the stairs and the young Gascon slipped into the room.

"What is it?" The boys' dark eyes flicked around the room, noting Athos' absence and Aramis' concerned expression.

"We need to try and break this fever." Aramis had a hand resting on Eleanor's head, the fingers of his other hand pressed against her wrist, feeling the fluttering of her heart beat as fast as a butterfly's wing, and he thought just as delicate.

"You're really worried." D'Artagnan gazed steadily at him as he smoothed Eleanor's hair back from her face, soothing her as she moved restlessly.

"I couldn't tell Athos; he would never have left the room."

"How did you manage it?" d'Artagnan glanced at Aramis, his curiosity piqued and the Spaniard shook his head and shrugged.

"Let us just say that the Captain's housekeeper is a force to be reckoned with."

"I can believe that; she reminds me of my mother."

"Well then you'd best behave yourself, young man." Both musketeers jumped and turned to the door, guilty looks on their faces. Anna stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised and hands on hips.

"I...I'm..." d'Artagnan stuttered as the woman levelled her gaze at him. For a moment Aramis considered stepping in to save the boy, but decided it would be funnier to watch as the Gascon was reduced to a child under Anna's stare. He stopped smirking when the housekeeper levelled her gaze at him.

"None of that from you either." Her gaze fell to where his hand still rested on Eleanor's hair and her face softened. "What do you need?"

"A cup of boiling water; buckets of the coldest water you can find and cloths." All trace of humour had gone from Aramis' face and his eyes were once again filled with concern as Anna nodded and set off down the stairs. A few moments later they heard her voice as she directed the young maid and sounds of flurried activity as they carried out Aramis' requests.

"What's that?" d'Artagnan watched as Aramis opened a pouch at his belt and pulled out a small package wrapped in soft leather. Quickly he unwrapped it and emptied a small bundle of what appeared to be crumbling sticks onto the table beside the bed.

"Willow bark; if we can get her to take some then it may help to break the fever." He looked up as the door opened and Anna entered, the maid Alice close behind her. The housekeeper handed the cup of water she carried to Aramis and placed the bundle of cloths that she had under her arm onto the table beside the bed. Alice placed the buckets of water she carried beside the bed and stood gazing at Eleanor, her face full of sadness until a word from Anna broke her from her thoughts, sending her hurrying from the room. Anna and d'Artagnan watched as Aramis crumbled the bark into the cup and put it to one side. He turned to them, his dark eyes serious.

"That needs to steep for a while; we must try and cool her body while it does."

"What is your plan, monsieur?" Anna regarded him levelly.

"Surround her in the cold cloths, keep changing them and use the water to draw the heat from her."

"Will it work?"

"It might, it's better than trying nothing."

"Well I hope it works for all our sakes." D'Artagnan's voice was quiet as he moved to the first bucket and pile of cloths.

They worked through the night, placing cold cloths around Eleanor's body and replacing them as the heat from her fever warmed them. Aramis gently forced the bitter infusion of willow bark down her throat and a few hours later brewed another cup and made her drink that too. It was the middle of the night when Anna looked up from the fresh water, ringing a cloth out as she fixed her gaze on Aramis.

"Is it working?"

"I don't know; there's been no change so far." There were dark shadows under his eyes as he placed a hand on Eleanor's brow, feeling the fire that still raged in her skin.

"What do we do?" d'Artagnan saw the concern in his friends' eyes.

"There's nothing else to do; we keep trying."

"And if..." d'Artagnan trailed off.

"I don't know; but I for one am not going to tell the Captain that we gave up on her." He pulled a cloth from the bed and took the fresh one from Anna, muttering a prayer under his breath as he did so.

The first rays of dawn were just breaking through the clouds, washing the sky with pink and gold when Porthos entered the house. He entered the dining room, surprised to see only the young maid, Alice.

"Where's everyone else?" The girl looked at him like a startled doe, her red rimmed eyes telling him that she had been weeping.

"Upstairs, monsieur; all with the mistress." Without a backward glance, Porthos strode down the hallway to the stairs. When he entered Eleanor's room he saw Anna, Aramis and d'Artagnan stood around the bed. Eleanor lay still and unmoving, her face pale and her hair still damp with sweat. Porthos stared at the girl, looking for any sign of life as he stepped into the room.

"Aramis?" His voice was soft as he closed the door. His friend looked up at him and stared, almost as though he did not register who stood in front of him. "Aramis what happened?"

"We worked all night." Aramis' voice was quiet with exhaustion. After a moment he shook himself and looked Porthos in the eye. "It worked, her fever's broken." Porthos breathed a sigh of relief and yes, now he looked closely he could see the shallow rise and fall of Eleanor's chest as she breathed.

"Well that's something." Porthos looked from one to the other; all of them looked utterly exhausted, their faces pale with dark rings around their eyes. "Go get some rest, I'll sit with her." They nodded gratefully, relief on their faces as they filed from the room. Porthos quietly closed the door and looked at the brightening sky as he unbuttoned his jerkin, draping it over a chair before settling down to keep watch over the sleeping girl. He had not been sat for long before the door opened and Athos stepped into the room, buttoning his jerkin over is shirt. Porthos saw his gaze sweep over the room, blue eyes widening slightly as he saw Eleanor's still form.

"S'alright, Athos; her fevers gone." Athos inclined his head in a grateful acknowledgement and Porthos watched his friend let out the breath he was holding.

"Has she..."

"Not woken up yet."

"The others?"

"Sleeping; they were with her all night."

"Alright; I'll stop at the garrison and tell Treville." He glanced at Eleanor once more, as though reassuring himself that she still lived and slipped out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Treville stood beside the Queen, barely listening as the King rambled on about a hunting trip he wanted to go on, ignoring the Queen's gentle sigh. He could feel the gazes of Rochefort and the Cardinal as the men looked at him and it took every ounce of his soldiers control to stop himself driving his fists into their faces. When Athos had brought him the news that morning that Eleanor's fever had broken he had wanted to run straight to his house and see her, but the summons had come from the palace that he was to attend his majesty. He had been her for most of the day and had to admit to himself that he had never wanted to tell the King to shut up more than he did at this moment in time.

"How is your daughter, Captain?" The Queen's voice was soft, breaking him from his thoughts.

"She's still fighting, your majesty."

"I am glad to hear it."

"Glad to hear what?" The King was looking at them, his expression amused.

"That Captain Treville's daughter still lives."

"Getting better I hope." The King glanced at Treville.

"There is hope, at least. She is strong, Sire."

"Well that is good news."

"Does that mean that his majesty's musketeers will be able to return to their duties soon? They must be bored of playing nursemaids, unless of course they have found their true calling." The Cardinal's voice was soft and Rochefort smirked. Treville felt the temper that he had passed on to his daughter build within him.

"I would trust those musketeers over any of your men to protect my daughter."

"Well luckily my men are not at your disposal so we don't have to worry about that."

"That's enough, Cardinal." The King's irritation was clear, stopping the argument immediately. "Treville, have your men found the culprit yet?"

"Not yet, Sire."

"Tell them to keep looking, I want him found." With a last glance at Rochefort and the Cardinal he turned and left the room.

When Treville left the palace it was dark. He paused just outside, rubbing a hand over his eyes and letting the cool breeze blow across his face. He looked up sharply as rapid hoof beats approached; automatically he laid a hand on his pistol as a rider loomed into view, pulling up sharply in a spray of gravel. It took only a moment for Treville to realise the man in the saddle as he steadied the skittering horse.

"Porthos? What is it?"

"It's your daughter, sir."

"Oh God is she...?"

"She's awake, Sir."

* * *

**Hope you liked xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, sorry for the wait, here's the next bit. Thank you to TheseWordsAreUnspoken and alyslee for the reviews on the last chapter.**

* * *

Aramis had come to relieve Porthos after midday; the big musketeer was glad to see that his friend looked less like he was about to keel over now that he had rested. Aramis' dark eyes flicked around the room.

"No Athos?"

"He's still out."

"I'm surprised; it was all I could do to get him out of here yesterday."

"He came to check on her before he left; seemed happy that her fever was gone." Porthos paused, frowning. "You don't think he's..." He left the question hanging.

"What? Got feelings for her?" Aramis' eyes widened as his friend nodded. "God I hope not, for his sake if nothing else, but no, I think he has his heart closed although it saddens me to see it." Porthos gave a look that suggested that he very much hoped not too, he couldn't imagine what Treville would do to any of them that dared touch his daughter. He sighed as he looked down at the still sleeping girl.

"For the Captain's sake I hope she wakes up soon." He stood, stretching out his muscles and reaching for his jerkin before heading downstairs in search of food. Aramis sat in the chair beside the bed and took the gold rosary from beneath his shirt deciding that it was time to follow the doctors' advice and pray.

_Ave Maria, gratia plena,_

_Dominus tecum_

_Benedicta tu in mulieribus_

_Et benedictus fructus ventris tui_

_Iesus_

_Sancta Maria, Mater Dei_

_Ora pro nobis peccatoribus_

_Nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae_

_Amen_

Aramis prayed through the day as the shadows moved across the room, the bright afternoon light darkening to rich gold as the day wore on. As the shadows in the room began to lengthen he stood, slipping the cross from his neck. Carefully he reached out, gently pressing the cross into Eleanor's hand and closing her fingers around it. He sighed and stood, moving to the window and gazing out over Paris. The sun was just beginning to set, washing the clouds with purple and edging them in red. As he looked at it, Aramis thought it gave the impression that someone had streaked the sky with a paintbrush.

"Oh merciful Mother, I beg of you; intercede for this girl. I fear if she loses this fight then good men will fall. She is innocent in this, I beg of you, save her."

He turned as he heard movement behind him and his eyes widened. Eleanor's hand had closed around the cross and as he watched, her eyes flickered open. Her head turned as Aramis crossed to the bed in three strides and all but landed in the chair.

"Aramis?" Her voice was faint.

"Eleanor, how do you feel?" He ran his gaze over the girl; her skin was still pale but not longer ashen.

"Exhausted, what happened?"

"You were attacked and poisoned; you've been unconscious for six days."

"Six days? Then why do I feel like I haven't slept for six weeks?"

"You've been fighting for your life; I doubt it was going to be restful." She nodded and he rose from his seat, quietly excusing himself as he moved to the door. Quickly he slipped into the hall and made his way down the stairs, all but leaping down the last three steps. He ran into the dining room, colliding with Alice and sending the tray that she carried crashing to the floor, the thankfully empty tankards clattering across the flagstones.

"Aramis, what the..." Porthos rose from his seat, dark eyes narrowed in confusion as Aramis knelt to retrieve one of the tankards.

"What in heavens' name is going on in here?" Anna came barrelling into the room, a glare fixed on her face. "You're making enough noise to wake the whole of Paris."

"An apt choice of words, Madame; Eleanor has just woken." Aramis watched as the housekeepers' face went from anger to disbelief to joy. Without another word she hurried past Aramis, her footsteps sounding on the stairs a moment later. "Porthos, my friend, I believe the Captain is at the palace today." He did not need to say any more, the big musketeer picked up his hat and made for the door.

Aramis stood, gathering the last tankards in his hands and placing them onto the tray and smiling at Alice.

"My apologies, mademoiselle; it was clumsy of me."

"At least it was nothing breakable." She smiled, gazing up at him with wide eyes and reminding Aramis of a startled dear. He smiled at her and nodded before turning back into the hall and making his way up the stairs.

It could only have been an hour later when Aramis and Eleanor heard the door slam and booted feet pounding on the stairs. The door burst open as if hit with a battering ram revealing Captain Treville, his eyes wild and his clothes dusty from the fast ride from the palace. His gaze found the bed and settled on Eleanor where she sat propped against several bolsters. Aramis watched as the Captain let out the breath he had clearly been holding, his shoulders relaxing as though a huge weight had been lifted from him.

Aramis watched as Treville pulled Eleanor into his arms, relief clear on his face. He looked across the room to where Porthos stood in the doorway and nodded before rising quietly to his feet and slipping soft footed from the room.

It was some time later when Athos returned and the house was quiet, Treville having left some hours earlier to get some much needed rest. Quietly he made his way down the hall to the soft light that still emanated from the under the dining room door. He opened the door softly and stopped when the light glinted off of the gun barrel aimed neatly at his chest.

"Not the usual welcome." He quirked an eyebrow at Porthos and the big man shrugged.

"Thought it might be you but wasn't gonna take the chance; she might be awake but Captain said we still had to watch her."

"She's awake?"

"Since sunset, anyway, where've you been for so long?"

"Searching."

"Anything?"

"No, no one seems to know anything about it."

"Or if they do, they ain't telling." Athos nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. Porthos watched as his friend's eyes flicked to the hallway and stairs. "She's still awake if you want to see her." His voice was soft and Athos glanced at him and nodded his thanks before making his way towards the stairs.

Anna was just stepping out into the hallway when Athos reached the top of the stairs. The old housekeeper looked at him, her eyes narrowed for a moment. "You must take care of yourself, monsieur; you look about ready to collapse."

"I was hoping to see Madame Ardoin."

"Don't be too long; she needs to rest and so do you." He smiled at her and inclined his head. She sighed and made her way down the stairs, leaving him alone.

When Athos entered the room, he thought Eleanor already slept; he was just about to leave when her head turned towards him.

"Athos?"

"Correct." He could not stop a smile forming as he stepped fully into the room, moving to lean against one of the bed posts. Eleanor smiled and pushed herself up on one elbow; as she did, Athos saw a flash of gold in her hand and was mildly surprised to see Aramis' gold rosary wrapped around the girls' fingers.

"They said you'd been gone for a long time." Eleanor's soft voice brought his focus back to her and he raised his gaze to her face. In the dim light from the single candle he could see that she was still pale, but the faintest blush of colour was returning to her cheeks.

"I was looking for anything that might lead us to the person that hurt you. As of this moment, I have so far failed."

"You'll find them; I think my father will not rest until you do."

"I believe you are correct again. I see Aramis has left you his rosary." He watched as her thumb moved over the shape of the gold cross.

"He said I could look after it until I was well again."

"Well have a care; it is one of his most treasured possessions."

"I will." She smiled and Athos pushed himself away from the post.

"I should go; Anna will have my head if she thinks I've kept you up too late." Eleanor nodded, settling back against the bolster.

"Goodnight, Athos."

"Goodnight, Eleanor."

Only once he had stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him did Athos let the breath out that he felt he had been holding since Anna had told them that Eleanor was sick. He pressed his back against the wall, allowing the solid surface to ground him so that he could gather himself. He could feel the fluttering relief that Eleanor was alive and awake coupled with the swirling rage that someone had dared to attack her and through her, attack Treville. He leant his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and drew in a deep breath, putting his self control back into place and determined to channel his anger into finding out what had happened.

A light burned in the Cardinal's office, casting flickering shadows on the wall as Richelieu paced back and forth.

"Not so foolproof as you thought, Rochefort. From what I hear the girl is awake and recovering."

"They will try again, your eminence."

"Then let us hope that this time they are successful; feed them enough information to ensure that Treville is truly distracted." He paused, deep in thought. "Perhaps if his daughter being sick is not enough to distract him then the added loss of one of his favourites might."

* * *

**Hope you liked xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Well here we are with the next one, thank you to Twitch88 and Merick for the reviews on the last chapter, it's those that keep me going. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The next day was dull, grey clouds hanging heavily over Paris and drizzling fine rain over the musketeers assembled in the courtyard. Treville stood on the stairs, wrinkling his nose as he felt the misty rain soaking into his cloak and sighing as he looked down at his men; they looked as miserable as he felt in the rain. He decided to hand out the duties quickly and send them on their way; although his men were hardened soldiers and could work in any weather it was not kind to leave them in the rain and sometimes Treville thought the smell of wet musketeer could be compared to that of wet dog and if possible was to be avoided. Finally he came to the end of the duty list and dismissed his soldiers, watching as they filed out of the garrison yard leaving Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan standing alone.

"You three, come with me." Treville made his way down the stairs, pulling his cloak around him, the wet wool heavy and cumbersome.

"Where?" Athos had swung into step beside him.

"To my house, we need to gather any information we can."

"Forgive me, Captain, but isn't that what we've been doing for the past week?" d'Artagnan ran a hand through his damp hair and Treville made a mental note to tell the others to make the boy buy a hat.

"There is one source of information we haven't explored yet."

"What's that?" Athos glanced sideways at the Captain.

"Eleanor."

"Captain, Eleanor has been unconscious for six days and from what your housekeeper has told us, the attack was over in seconds; what can she possibly tell us?" Aramis was incredulous, the look of disbelief clear through the waterfall running from his hat.

"With any luck, more than you think." Treville could sense their disbelief and, in truth he did not blame them. The thought that a blind woman could provide any information that might help would indeed seem odd to them; but then, he reasoned, they did not know his daughter quite so well as he did.

They trooped up the stairs, having collected Porthos on their way through the dining room. Anna had pursed her lips when Treville had told her that they wanted to question Eleanor about her attacker, warning Treville that the girl still needed rest and that he was not to tire her. The Captain had nodded graciously, promising to only be as long as required and Anna had led them like a line of ducklings through the house.

They filed through the bedroom door to find Eleanor sat up in bed, running a brush through her fiery hair, wincing as she hit a tangle. She smiled as they came in, not pausing in her battle with the hairbrush.

"How are you?" Treville sat on the edge of the bed and the others moved to stand around it, Anna busied herself clearing the remains of a meal that sat on the bedside table.

"Bored." Eleanor gritted her teeth as she savagely pulled the brush through the knot and Aramis winced as it came free with a harsh grating noise.

"Feeling better then." Treville could not suppress a smile as Eleanor sighed; her ill temper was sure sign that her health was returning, and with it, her desire to not be cooped up and idle.

"Yes, and ready to get out of bed." Eleanor let out her breath in a discontented sigh before dropping the brush into her lap.

"You will rest for one more day; then you can go downstairs tomorrow." Anna's voice was firm, stating that she would brook no argument on the subject. She was rewarded with a bright smile and shook her head fondly as she turned and left the room.

Treville turned to Eleanor, watching her carefully before he made his request.

"Eleanor, we need your help." Her head turned towards him and tilted to one side, curiosity on her features.

"With what?"

"We need you to think back and see if you can remember anything about the day you were attacked, any details about your attacker that you can think of might help us find them." He saw the curiosity drop from her face and was relieved as she nodded.

"Alright, I'll see what I can remember." They watched as she took several deep, slow breaths, her body becoming still as she concentrated on what she could remember of that day in the market. "It was a man, taller than me, but not much I think, his shoulder hit my cheek." Her hand raised, fingers brushing the pale skin of her cheek as she remembered the impact. "His hands were rough, strong, one touched my arm." She paused, her eyes closed and her brow creased as she fought to remember the details. Her head shifted quickly to the side and she took in a quick breath, Porthos thought that it looked like she was scenting the air. "He smelt like...sword oil and leather, like a soldier but his cloak was something else like..." Eleanor screwed her eyes tightly shut; biting her lip and Aramis feared that she was exhausting herself. He took a step forwards but Treville shook his head, warning him off.

"What was it, Eleanor?" Treville's voice was soft and encouraging, he too was worried that she would overtax herself but he knew she could remember if she had a few more moments.

"It smelled musty and damp, like he's been somewhere old and not looked after." She opened her eyes and shook her head. "I'm sorry, that's all I can remember."

"You've done well." Treville leant forwards, gently kissing her cheek. "We'll leave you to rest now." He squeezed her hand and rose from the bed, turning to face the others. "d'Artagnan, you're staying here." The young Gascon nodded without complaint and Treville turned for the door, leading them back through the house.

He paused in the dining room and turned to face them. "Well she's given us what she can."

"Far more than I would have expected." Aramis' voice held a note of wonder.

"Well I did tell you." Treville could not hide the note of pride in his voice. "She takes in a great many details with her other senses and remembers them. We'll work with what we have back at the garrison; we're going to go through every report I have and see if we can find anyone who I might have made an enemy of." He pushed his hat onto his head and turned for the door, Athos, Porthos and Aramis following behind.

"This is gonna take ages." Porthos' kept the comment carefully under his breath, grateful that the Captain either did not hear or chose to ignore it.

When they reached the garrison, Treville led them straight up the stairs to his office; once the door was closed he turned to face them, his expression serious.

"The information and reports that you are about to see are from every mission, incident and noteworthy occurrence in the history of this regiment; some of it is known and some of it is not and for the welfare of your fellow musketeers should not be known. Do I make myself clear?"

"Don't tell anyone anything." Athos met Treville's gaze steadily.

"Precisely." They nodded and he seemed satisfied, he turned and pulled out the key for the records cabinet. "Right, take a record, read it and if it might be important then put it on my desk. If not then put it back and if you don't put them back in exactly the right place I'll have you cleaning the stables for a month." They nodded and set to work, each reaching out for a document and mindful of the spot they took it from knowing that Treville did not make idle threats and that he would make their lives miserable if they disturbed his meticulous filing system.

They sat for hours, reading their way through every scrap of paper, occasionally making a remark or observation on one of the records. Serge brought them food and drink and they ate it while reading. The sun climbed through the sky and the pile of papers on Treville's desk grew steadily as they found records that may have made enemies for Treville.

"How about this one?" Aramis passed a piece of paper to Treville and the Captain scanned over it before shaking his head.

"No, everyone involved in that one's dead."

"We've got dishonourable discharges, deaths on missions, disputes; it could be any one of them." Porthos sighed as he picked up another record and looked longingly out of the window to where the setting sun was casting long shadows across the garrison.

"The answer's got to be here somewhere." Treville rolled up the sheet of paper he was holding and sighed; Porthos was getting restless and Aramis was becoming more fidgety by the minute.

"Wait a minute; she said somewhere damp and musty." Porthos had looked up suddenly as the thought struck him.

"What about it? Half of the buildings in Paris are damp in one way or another." Aramis had raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"Yeah but most of them get lived in and aired out every so often."

"You're thinking abandoned buildings?" Treville had looked up in interest.

"Yep, and I'm thinking exactly who knows what goes in most of the abandoned buildings in the city."

"Your friends in the Court of Miracles." Treville had sat back in his chair, the paper in his hand momentarily forgotten. "Fine, go, see if they know anything and if they can be persuaded to keep an ear to the ground, promise them payment if they want it." Porthos nodded and stood. "Aramis go to my house and relieve d'Artagnan, tell him to report to me in the morning, he can join us in here tomorrow." Aramis looked relieved as he placed the paper he was holding carefully back in its place and joined Porthos at the door.

"Until tomorrow then." The Spaniard tilted his hat and followed his friend out onto the balcony. Treville watched them go and sighed, he turned when he sensed he was being watched and found Athos leaning back in his chair, one eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Well that was efficient." Athos' tone was dry but a hint of amusement sparkled in the blue eyes and Treville could swear he saw the hint of a smirk.

"I had to be; what with Porthos' complaining and Aramis' fidgeting they were driving me mad." Treville stood and stretched; his back and neck ached from being hunched over papers all day and his eyes felt dry and tired. "I suppose you want to escape too." He looked at his most steadfast soldier, unsurprised yet grateful when Athos raised an eyebrow once more.

"Not unless you want me gone. I was under the impression that there are more records to sort through." Slowly and deliberately he raised the paper he was holding to the lamplight and began to read again.

Not for the first time, Treville marvelled at this man who could be brought so low by his past but never wavered in his duty or loyalty. He sighed, it would be a long night of reading but he didn't mind having Athos for company; the man had a quiet steadiness about him which balanced the exuberance of his friends and held them together. In fact Treville thought that if not for Athos he might long ago have strangled Porthos or Aramis. He bent down to open a low cupboard, reaching in to grasp the bottle of brandy and glasses that lay within. Placing the glasses on the desk he filled each one and without a word, pushed one towards Athos. The man reached out and picked up the glass, sniffing appreciatively. He nodded his thanks, sensing that words were not required or wanted at this point.

Porthos made his way through the damp streets, the houses becoming shabbier as he grew close to his destination. Eventually he reached the archway he was aiming for, and taking a careful note of his coin pouch, stepped into the Court of Miracles. He could feel eyes on him as he walked up the narrow pathway between the buildings, the silence of the watchers heavy and suspicious. He had not gone more than a few yards when the first warning sounded, the single tapping of an old horseshoe against the wooden balcony that was soon joined by others, the sound growing to fill the space as he moved. Porthos carefully kept his hands away from his weapons, leaving them well in view of the watching eyes. He had only taken a few more steps when a figure appeared up ahead and held up a hand. The warning ceased immediately and the figure stepped fully into the light; Porthos grinned as he recognised the Queen of the Court.

"Flea." He pulled her into a tight hug and when he released her, she gazed at him shrewdly.

"What do you need, Porthos?" She turned, wrapping her arm around him and leading him inside. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and grinned down at her.

"What makes you think I need something?"

"I can always tell; you can't hide anything from me." She tilted her head to one side and he sighed, realising that she was right.

"Do you know if any of the abandoned buildings have had anything going on in them? Maybe people coming and going who don't look like they belong there?"

"Not heard anything, but I can keep an ear out. What's happened?"

"Captain's daughter was attacked, nearly killed." He watched Flea's face as she took in his words.

"That pretty red haired girl? What do they want with her?"

"Dunno, but the Captain ain't gonna rest till he knows and he'll be grateful for anything you can give him." He could see that he didn't need to put the Captain's offer of payment bluntly, Flea understood. She nodded, her face set in determination.

"I'll listen out for anything and I'll let you know." She reached up onto a shelf and pulled down a bottle, holding it up towards him. "You got time for a drink?"

"I've always got time for a drink with you." She grinned and took his hand, pulling him further into the room. He smiled as her intentions to do more than just have a drink were made clear, and reasoned after all, that he wasn't needed anywhere until tomorrow.

* * *

**Hope you liked, much love for reviews xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, so glad you all seem to be enjoying it this far, the response to the last chapter was great. Thank you to Dg101, .54, Twitch88, merick and Troy08 for the lovely reviews.**

* * *

Aramis made his way through the darkening streets, glad that the rain had finally eased off. He liked the rain, it helped wash everything clean, something the streets of Paris sorely needed; however he preferred stormy downpours to the fine misty rain that worked its way into everywhere and left one soaked through. It did not take him long to reach the house and when he knocked on the door he was surprised to see it opened by d'Artagnan; the young man's face breaking into an expression of relief when he saw Aramis.

"Thank heavens; I was wondering if anyone would ever come."

"Why? What's happened?" Aramis stepped into the hall, his eyes darting around for any sign of trouble.

"Oh nothing's happened but she's bored and it's like looking after a mare that's kicking at the stable door."

"Been on the wrong end of her have you?" Aramis grinned at the boy as he hung up his cloak.

"Not quite yet but if she has to stay in this house much longer then we all will be."

"Well we must endeavour to alleviate her boredom then."

"How?" The young musketeer looked puzzled and Aramis sighed; for someone so much in love, the boy still knew remarkably little about women.

"Conversation, my dear boy, the lady has interests and is bright and charming; we must discover those interests and engage her."

"The only thing that I know she likes is that mare of hers." D'Artagnan wrinkled his nose; he was not a great fan of chestnut mares, having had similar experiences of them to Athos.

"A perfect start, the horse is in the musketeer stables yes?"

"Yes, but Treville left orders that she isn't allowed out of the house."

"Well then, when you report to Treville in the morning, convince him otherwise; it'll be a sure way of making her happy if you can take her to see her horse next time it's your shift." Aramis smiled and clapped d'Artagnan on the shoulder, cheerfully ignoring the look on d'Artagnan's face that suggested he would rather have a drink with Rochefort than question Treville's orders concerning his daughter.

They made their way down the hall to the dining room and Aramis was surprised to see it empty, he turned to d'Artagnan, the question clear on his face.

"She's in the study, been pacing in there for the last hour."

"Alright, you go, I'll see if I can settle her a little." D'Artagnan nodded gratefully and beat a hasty retreat, leaving Aramis alone.

After a moment, the Spaniard made his way down the hall, spotting the open door to the study. It was almost dark in the room, but he could just about see Eleanor as she paced along the bookshelf that made up most of the far wall. She stopped as he stepped into the doorway, her head tilted towards him.

"Aramis." It was a statement, not a question and he stepped fully into the room.

"That's right, how did you know?"

"Your footsteps are the softest and your doublet flows as you move, it's not hard to tell." Her voice was quiet with no hint of pride or bragging in her tone and Aramis sensed a sadness about her.

Carefully he stepped back into the hall and took one of the lamps from its bracket on the wall, taking it with him back into the study. The soft light cast dancing shadows on the walls and Aramis stepped closer to Eleanor, watching her carefully as the lamp light fell across her features. She had resumed her slow pacing along the length of the bookshelf, her fingers running over the leather bound covers as she moved. When she turned, Aramis could see that he had been right, an air of sadness hung about her; he could also see that she had still not regained her full strength and her pacing had exhausted her, leaving her face pale and dark shadows under her eyes. He watched as she paused, pulling a book from the shelf and running the tips of her fingers gently across the cover, the smallest of smiles gracing her features as she did so.

"L'Astrée." Aramis could just about see the title of the book in the lamp light. "An excellent book."

"It's one of my favourites." A true smile now formed as she hugged the book to her. "My mother taught me to trace the titles on embossed covers so that I could find a book, then she would read it to me. Father collected copies of the books that I liked with embossed covers and if he could not find one then he would have them made." She smiled fondly at the memory. "No one has read to me for a long time." Her smile had vanished and the air of sadness had reappeared, hanging about her like a shadow and further enhancing his opinion that she needed to rest.

"Would you like me to read it to you?" He was not sure if his offer would be rebuffed when he saw the quizzical look on her face.

"Are you sure? It does not seem like a soldier's tale."

"Ah, Madame, at heart I am a romantic and a tale of perfect love is one that I will read over and over again." He was glad when she smiled and the sad cloud seemed to lift.

"In that case I would be glad if you would read it to me." She stepped forwards, allowing him to take her arm and guide her through the house.

He waited patiently while Anna helped the girl prepare for bed, then took up a seat next to the bed and began to read. His voice was low and soft as he began the tale of the two lovers and he read late into the night, stopping only when Eleanor's eyes drifted closed and she slept peacefully.

To Porthos' relief, the next morning was bright and the skies clear but when he stepped onto the streets the air still held the fresh scent of rain. Quickly he made his way through the streets, mindful of the first rays of dawn that were edging the rooftops in gold.

The sun had almost fully risen when he reached the house and he knocked softly on the door, not wanting to disturb anyone still sleeping within. It was the young maid who opened the door, stepping aside to let him in. He could see dark smudges on her apron and hands; she had clearly been laying fires.

"Your friend is in the study, monsieur." He followed her down the hall and made his way to where she pointed, pausing to thank her when he reached the door to the study.

Aramis sat at the desk, his legs stretched out in front of him and his head dropped forwards onto his chest. He started awake as a floorboard creaked under Porthos' foot, his hand moving for his pistol. Porthos froze for a moment until he was sure that Aramis had recognised him and lowered the pistol.

"You do know that Treville said we were allowed to sleep in the beds right? You didn't have to stay down here." He watched as Aramis neatly caught the book that was about to slide from his lap and straightened himself in the chair, stretching like a cat and wincing as his neck cracked.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep." Carefully he placed the book on the desk.

"You were up all of yesterday, surely you weren't gonna try and stay up all night too?" Porthos frowned at his friend.

"Wouldn't be the first time; do you remember when Athos was wounded on that mission to arrest that troublesome baron some years ago?"

"I remember you stayed up for nearly two days straight when he took a fever. I also remember that you made yourself sick with worry, then couldn't sleep and then made yourself really sick. That and all the other times you've stayed up past your bed time." He smiled at his friend, but his eyes showed his concern. "You need your rest."

"I know, but I had forgotten how much I enjoyed this book." Aramis held up the book in question, his expression suitably contrite for the worry he had caused his friend. "Eleanor picked it last night and after I had finished reading it to her, I couldn't put it down so came down here to read some more."

"I don't remember reading to her being included in our orders."

"She wasn't very happy yesterday, it helped."

"What's wrong with her?" If he had to guard Eleanor when she was upset then Porthos wanted to be forewarned.

"Mostly she's bored but I think her mind is also dwelling on the unpleasant fact that somebody tried to kill her. I suggested to d'Artagnan that we may need to engage her in one way or another."

"Reading out loud ain't my strong point." Porthos frowned, hoping that he would not have to take up where Aramis had left off.

"Porthos, my friend, you have many strong points. That may not be one but you just have to find one of yours that appeals to her." Aramis paused, looking at his friend with a furrowed brow. "Please tell me that I don't have to explain engaging a women's interest to you as well as to the boy."

"No, I'm sure I'll manage thanks."

"Excellent, in that case I shall wait until the lady wakes and bid farewell to her before I leave you to it." He grinned and went to leave the study, not quite managing to avoid the shove from Porthos that sent him stumbling into the doorframe before they made their way into the dining room, chuckling as they went.

The first thing d'Artagnan did when he reached the garrison in the morning was to make his way to the stables. He stopped at one of the stalls, greeting his horse with soft murmurs and running the warm ears through his hands. He smiled as the animal nudged his pocket, snuffling for the apple that was his customary morning treat. He murmured softly to his horse, stroking the powerful animal as it happily crunched the apple. As he ran his hands through the soft fur, he gazed along the row of stalls to where Eleanor's mare stood. He had to admit that she was a beautiful animal, with long legs and rippling muscles under a silken coat that shone like fire in the early morning sunlight. As he watched, she tossed her head and kicked at the stable door. Quickly he made his way down to the stall, reaching out to stroke the mare's neck.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, no need for that." Gently he stroked the velvet muzzle and the mare began to settle. "Your mistress isn't the only mare kicking at the stable door then; guess I'll have to talk to the Captain and see if I can help." He murmured to the mare for a few more moments before sighing and making his way to Treville's office.

"Enter." The command lacked its usual force and d'Artagnan opened the door, unsure as to what he might find. The Captain sat at his desk, a pile of papers in front of him and more in his hands. The young musketeer stepped fully into the room, his attention fully focused on Treville. A slight movement caught his eye and he turned, almost jumping out of his skin when he saw Athos seated to one side of the room, his legs stretched out in front of him and his jerkin slung over the back of his chair; he too held several papers in his hands. D'Artagnan did not miss the dark circles beneath their eyes, or the half empty brandy bottle on the desk. Athos inclined his head in greeting before turning back to the papers he held.

"Captain?" The boy looked back at Treville, waiting for orders.

"You can help me here; there are still records to go through." Treville paused, glancing across to where Athos sat. "Athos, go home, get some rest." D'Artagnan watched as the soldier opened his mouth to protest. "Don't argue with me, Athos; you're guarding Eleanor tonight and I would prefer you to be useful should anything happen." For a moment, d'Artagnan thought that Athos would resist further and a silent battle of wills seemed to take place for a moment as his Captain and his mentor stared at each other.

"Alright, but don't forget, you've been up all night too." He raised an eyebrow at the captain and inclined his head as he rose to his feet. Carefully he placed the papers he held onto the pile on the desk and turned to leave, nodding at d'Artagnan as he made his way to the door.

D'Artagnan made his way to the cabinet and pulled out a record, settling down in the chair that Athos had vacated to read it.

"How's Eleanor?" Treville's tone was mild and d'Artagnan looked up to see the Captain watching him carefully.

"She's well." The Gascon could see as soon as the words were out of his mouth that the Captain didn't believe him; a heavy silence flowed in his direction and he tried not to squirm. "Physically anyway." Treville sighed heavily.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's restless, Sir; she spent most of yesterday pacing around the house, as though she just couldn't settle." He took a deep breath; well it was now or never. "If she could leave the house..."

"Out of the question; it's too dangerous."

"But if she were escorted..."

"No! She's not safe in the streets; the last time she was outside she was almost killed." Treville had stood and was pacing. "I need to keep her safe."

"Yes, Sir, you do; but what is the point in keeping her alive if she goes mad because you've cooped her up?" The Captain turned on him, anger on his face and for a moment, d'Artagnan feared that he had gone too far but he stood fast, gazing back at Treville. Ordinarily, he would have left standing up to the Captain to Athos; the man being quite content to hammer his way through the command structure of the garrison when it suited him. But Athos was not here and it fell to him to advocate for Eleanor. He watched as Treville wrestled with himself; his desire to keep Eleanor safe warring with his knowledge that d'Artagnan was right. Finally the Captain sighed.

"Alright, but she is to be within sight of a musketeer at all times." d'Artagnan tried not to let his sigh of relief be too visible, but nodded his thanks at the Captain and cast his gaze back to the paper he held. It seemed that watching Eleanor might be easier next time.

* * *

**Hope you liked xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys, here's the next one. Thanks to dg101 for the review on chapter 10.**

* * *

Porthos made his way through the house, a mug of ale freshly procured from the kitchen in his hands; a soft whirring sound caught his attention and he made his way towards it, finally locating the source in the study.

Eleanor sat near the window, a spinning wheel that Porthos had not noticed before in front of her. He watched, fascinated as her foot moved, setting the wheel to spin as her fingers deftly pulled at the combed wool in her hand; drawing the fibres steadily towards the bobbin. As she spun, she hummed to herself, rocking gently back and forth to the tune and moving in and out of a shaft of sunlight that shone through the window, turning her skin to marble and her hair to fire. For a moment, Porthos was mesmerized, her steady movement and soft humming captivating him; he winced as a floorboard creaked under his foot and the humming stopped, breaking the spell as her head tilted towards him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's alright; I was only doing it for the sake of something to do. My mother taught me to spin, more than likely to keep me out of trouble I think. She said that being blind did not mean that I could avoid every household task." She smiled fondly.

"She sounds like a good woman."

"She was; she never gave up on me like some had advised her to. She was determined that a lack of sight should not stop me. Father always said that she was like a lioness with a cub." Her smile had grown sad and for some reason he could not fathom, her sadness touched Porthos and he determined to change the subject.

"Did she teach you that tune you were humming?" He was delighted when the question had the desired affect; Eleanor's face brightened.

"No, that's the tune to one of my favourite dances."

"Seems to be a favourite thing of yours, dancing."

"I love to dance, but only when it's not for other people's entertainment."

"Was a good dance though." Porthos could not keep the admiration from his voice.

"The right partner helped."

"He did well. It's funny, I've known him for five, nearly six years and he never let on that he could dance."

"He's noble born; he would have had a dance master almost as soon as he could walk. He was reluctant to do it though."

"He's a good man, if the Captain's in a tight spot; there ain't nothing he won't do to help, same if any of us was in trouble."

"I thought as much." She smiled softly and Porthos looked at her, unsure as to her meaning. She had continued to spin as they spoke and now reached down to the basket at her feet as she came near the end of the wool in her lap. When she frowned, Porthos saw that the basket was empty and she reached out to stop the wheel. Sighing, she turned on her stool to face him. "Well that's done with for the moment then; tell me, Porthos, do you dance?"

"Nah, not much cause to learn if you grow up on the streets; wouldn't mind learning someday though. Aramis says it helps with sword work."

"Yes, I've heard that too." She tilted her head at him, one corner of her mouth raised in a half smile. "Would you like me to teach you the basics?"

"Well I..." Porthos was unsure, but then again, he reasoned, it wasn't as though she could watch his first attempts and laugh at him. "If you're sure."

"Well it's not as though we both have anywhere else to be." She smiled and stood, leading him from the study and to the dining room.

She began to teach him the basics of the dance, moving with him across the room and guiding him by feel. She was patient and kind, not concerned if he needed to practice steps multiple times. As they danced, they spoke and laughed, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company and learning something new.

It was nearly sunset when Athos came to the house to find Porthos and Eleanor sat in the dining room, each with a glass of wine in front of them. Across the table were platters with bread, meats and cheese. Athos was surprised to see Eleanor looking more relaxed than he had anticipated; he had seen Aramis earlier in the day and his friend had told him of the girls' unhappiness and he had almost expected to find her pacing again. As he stepped into the room, Eleanor's head turned towards him, a smile forming on her features as she recognised his footsteps.

"There's still plenty of food left, Monsieur, if you have not eaten." Anna came bustling into the room, addressing Athos as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Right, my dear, there's a bath ready upstairs for you; all that dancing will have left your hair with as many tangles as an unattended ball of yarn." Eleanor grimaced, but rose to her feet without protest.

"Goodnight, Porthos." Without another word she turned and meekly followed Anna from the room. Athos turned to Porthos, one corner of his mouth quirked in a smile.

"Dancing?" Looking at him, Porthos could see that his friend was merely curious and not mocking.

"She started teaching me the basics; not sure how good I was."

"It takes practice; the best of dancers stumbled when they first started learning." Athos sat in one of the chairs and reached for the platter of cheese.

"Guess you're right." Porthos paused, his gaze sweeping over Athos and concern in his dark eyes. "You look done in." There were dark circles under Athos' eyes and his face was more pale than usual.

"I stayed up with Treville all night to look through the records."

"Have you had any rest?"

"Some, I'll be alright." He looked up as Porthos sighed.

"Honestly, you and Aramis are gonna be the death of me; both of you believe that you can exist without sleep." He stood, picking up his hat from the table. "Get some rest tonight, Anna's made up a bed in one of the other rooms."

"I can't, what if something happens?"

"Then you'll wake up. Treville said we could sleep while we were here; he must think that she's safe enough in the house."

"Alright, I'll get some sleep later." Porthos nodded, satisfied and pushed his hat onto his head before making his way to the door, leaving Athos alone at the table.

Eleanor shivered as Anna poured another jug of water over her head; the bath was growing cold and her wet hair lay across her back, making her shudder.

"There, that's the last of the soap; come on, out." Anna reached out, taking Eleanor's arm and helping her out of the bath. Quickly she helped the girl dry off the water that cascaded down her body before helping her into a night robe and sitting her down to brush the tangles from her hair.

Athos heard the scream from the bedroom and was on his feet in an instant, taking the stairs two at a time. He burst through the door to Eleanor's room, stopping in horror at the scene in front of him. Eleanor stood, tears running down her cheeks as her hair was gripped from behind, pulling her head up and exposing her pale throat to the wicked knife blade held against it. Athos looked past her to her captor, feeling his heart stop when he saw who it was.

Milady stood there, as dark and beautiful as when he had last seen her and had granted her freedom. She stared back at him, a triumphant smile on her face and her eyes cold.

"So this is what you protect." Her gaze flicked to Eleanor. "Well she's a beauty, I'll give you that; I never thought red heads would be to your tastes."

"Anne..."

"Don't, Athos, can't you see? It's perfect, if she dies here, now, under your guard then that's it; your Captain goes mad and his trust in you will be destroyed. It's like two for the price of one." She pulled savagely on Eleanor's hair and the girl cried out as her head was forced back. Before Athos could move, Milady's wrist had flicked, sending the bright blade across Eleanor's throat. He shouted out, a wordless noise of horror as Eleanor grasped at her throat, dark blood running between her fingers as she crumpled to the floor.

He reached her in a few strides, almost heedless of Milady as she fled. Eleanor still moved, her chest rising and falling in pained gasps as she fought for breath, the blood flowing over both of their hands in what seemed to be a never ending stream.

Athos sat up, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps and his eyes wild as he looked around the dark room. Quickly he swung his legs off of the bed, wiping his hand across the cold sweat on his skin. Although he told himself that it was just a nightmare, much like any of the others he had suffered, it had seemed too real and he needed to reassure himself. Quietly he made his way down the hall, not bothering with a lamp to guide him. He paused outside Eleanor's door, taking a deep breath and fighting to regain control of his heart that still beat a wild tattoo against his ribs. Carefully so as not to make a sound, he opened the door, fearful of what he might see. Eleanor slept peacefully; her features soft in the pale shaft of moonlight that shone through the window and her breathing deep and even. Athos swept his gaze about the room before looking once more at her; satisfied at last, he slipped back out into the hall and closed the door softly behind him, knowing that he would have no more sleep this night.

It was a few hours later when Athos sat at the head of the dining table, a glass of wine in his hand; he had almost, but not quite consumed the whole bottle, unable to shake the images of his nightmare from his mind. He looked up as soft footfalls sounded in the hall and leapt to his feet as Eleanor stepped into the room, a diaphanous robe over her nightgown that floated behind her as she moved. He had seen once in one of his brother's storybooks a picture of a fairy queen and he thought that now, with her red hair tumbling down her back and her pale skin almost luminous in the shimmering candlelight that she could have been that fairy, stepping barefoot over the bare flagstones of the floor. Her head tilted towards him as his chair scraped across the flagstones, breaking the momentary spell and she smiled.

"You don't have to stand every time I walk into a room you know."

"An ingrained habit." He gave a wry smile and settled back into his chair.

"Ah yes." She made her way around the table to the seat next to him, her fingers tracing lightly over the grain of the wood. He did not quite manage to move the wine bottle before her fingers touched it and was forced to catch it quickly as it tilted dangerously. Carefully he set it down, watching as Eleanor settled herself into the chair, the bottom of her gown pooling in white folds at her feet.

"Was there something you needed?"

"No, I merely woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

"I'll leave you alone."

"If I wanted to be alone I would have stayed in my room. However, I see you already have company." Her fingers motioned to where the wine bottle had been.

"I..." Although Athos had assumed that she would hear about his drinking at some point, he was for some reason, thrown off guard now that she knew.

"Don't worry, I'm not judging you. Although a whole bottle and no slur in your speech suggests a hard head born of practice."

"I have my reasons." He could not bring himself to tell her that this time, he drank because he had dreamt of her.

"I'm sure you do, and I won't ask what they are." She tilted her head slowly to one side as though she were considering him. "I only wonder what could have happened to damage such a good heart." Her statement, voiced so softly, completely caught him off guard and he glanced at her sharply.

"You said you would not ask."

"I said I would not ask, I did not say that I wouldn't listen if you chose to tell me."

"Listen you might, but you are mistaken; my heart is not good." One corner of her mouth turned up at his denial and she let out a breath that might have been a laugh.

"And that is where you are wrong."

"You seem very sure of yourself." He watched her face as he spoke, noting the small smile that had formed at his words but realising that she was not laughing at him, more acknowledging him.

"I have no sight so cannot read a person as you would; I have had to learn to read a person's character in other ways, and I have learned well, just ask my father."

"You're still wrong." He couldn't think of a suitable counter argument, not without listing some of the less honourable deeds in his past that still haunted his sleep and he would not burden her with those. However, that small smile still lingered, almost as though she knew something he did not.

"I wonder, would your friends agree?"

"Well you have me there." He could not deny her; Aramis and Porthos made an annoying habit of reminding him of what virtues they believed he had and attempting to change his opinion of himself. It was disconcerting; the girl's observations were like well aimed musket balls, although he sensed that they were not aimed to hurt.

"I thought I might."

"You're still wrong." He would not concede the point.

"Am I? A high born noble in the musketeers with what seems to be an unhealthy level of self loathing and an empty bottle of wine says differently." She had hit close to the mark with that one and it unnerved him at just how close she was getting and he decided to return fire.

"You talk of my damaged heart; what about your own?" There was that smile again and the breath that sounded like a derisive laugh.

"Ah well, it takes one to know one I suppose. Let us just say that marriage is not always a happy affair." Her eyes were distant, her mind drifting back to the past for a moment.

"Your husband mistreated you?"

"Luc believed that his wife should be completely under control."

"Then I would say he married the wrong woman." Athos could not stop himself from smiling at this; the very thought of trying to control Eleanor in any way was more than he cared to contemplate. Having seen her temper he was certain it could not be done.

"You would say right." She paused, chewing her lip as she thought, almost as though she were wondering how much she could tell him. "I will not go into detail, but God forgive me when I say that I did not lament him when a horse kicked him to death."

"I can only imagine that both you and the horse had good reason." He would not have said he was shocked; it would take a great deal more than that to shock him, but he had not expected such a revelation and he sensed that it was not something that a great many people knew.

"I must ask you, Athos, please do not tell my father what I have told you."

"He doesn't know?"

"No, and I never intend him to." The pain and sudden worry in her eyes was such that even if he had wished to, he could not refuse her.

"You have my word."

"Thank you." She smiled gratefully and reached towards him, groping slightly until she found his hand that rested on the table top; she squeezed it gently, her gratitude apparent. After a moment she stood. "I think I had better go back to bed, or else Anna will know that I haven't slept; I swear even if she's not here she knows everything."

"The sign of a good housekeeper." He smiled when she laughed. "Goodnight, Eleanor."

"Goodnight, Athos." She traced her way along the table top until she reached the arm of his chair and used it to guide herself around the table. Athos did not move as she made her way around behind him, fearful of crushing her fingers. As she traced her way along the back of his chair, the tips of her fingers brushed his back through his shirt and he tried his hardest not to shiver. After a moment she moved away and made her way to the door without incident. Before she left the room a thought struck him and he spoke.

"What happened to the horse?" Eleanor paused, her head turned back over her shoulder towards him.

"She's the one I brought with me to Paris." With a quick smile she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Eleanor made her way softly through the house, counting the steps as she made her way up towards her room, her fingers trailing along the smooth wood of the banister. Once she reached her room she slipped inside and shut the door quietly behind her, hearing the latch drop into place with a soft click. She turned, pressing her back to the door and relishing the solid feel of the wood against her back, grounding her and allowing her to gather her thoughts. During her time in Paris so far she had grown to know the characters of her father's favourite four; Aramis, a romantic guided by both his faith and his friends, restless as a summer breeze. Porthos, strong and solid as the earth on the outside with a tender soul at his core. D'Artagnan, young and brash with a fiery temper, held in check by the guidance of his friends. Then there was Athos...Athos as mysterious as the sea; he puzzled her greatly, she could tell that he was honourable, as were they all, but there was an underlying sadness that ran through him like a river, evident at all times. She could hear it always in his quiet reservation and every nuance of his voice and she had never heard him laugh, all of the others were quick in their joy, laughing often and although she had heard Athos make a wry comment, a smile evident in his voice, he had never laughed in her presence.

She sighed, making her way across the room to her bed and pulling the heavy coverlet over herself. As she settled back to sleep she felt a great sadness for Athos and wished that she could find a way to ease his sorrow.

* * *

**Hope you liked, much love and imaginary cookies for reviews xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys, you all seemed to enjoy the last one based on the reviews, so much love and imaginary cookies for all. Here's a new chapter, thank you to dg101, Doubtful Guest, Troy08, Merick, Ebm36 and .54 for the reviews on the last one.**

* * *

The days passed, turning to weeks; Treville sent enquiries across France, searching for any information on the pile of records that still sat in the centre of his desk. As each reply came back, a record was rolled back up and carefully filed back in its place.

Eleanor spent her waking hours in the company of one or other of the musketeers and her nights watched over by another. With d'Artagnan she went to the garrison stables to spend time with her horse; when they were not at the garrison, they spent their time talking about horses and sharing knowledge and stories of both the animals and their shared memories of Gascony. Days with Aramis were spent listening to him read and discussing the books, often ending up in lively debate. With Porthos she danced, teaching him more and more steps; when they were not dancing he watched her work at the spinning wheel, mesmerised as her hands worked the fleece into yarn. Time with Athos was spent in quiet conversation; she told him of her childhood and life before Paris and he imparted what happy memories he had left of his life before the musketeers and stories of things he and his friends had done. In all their conversations, one topic never came up; that of either of their marriages, each sensing that the topic would bring unhappiness to the other. As they spent time together, talking of everything and nothing, or in comfortable silence, each began to trust the other.

It was late one evening when Athos made his way to the house, following Anna down the hall to the dining room, his feet making no sound on the wooden floorboards. Ahead he could hear movement and the deep rumble of Porthos' voice followed by Eleanor's soft laugh. The door to the dining room was partly closed and Anna paused, motioning for Athos to wait with her. Obediently he stopped just behind her, looking over her shoulder into the room beyond.

Porthos had a grasp on Eleanor's hand that belied a man of his size and strength. She moved lightly around him and appeared to be gliding rather than stepping. As she stepped in front of him he smoothly transferred her hand to his shoulder and grasped her waist, lifting her high before gently setting her down.

"I don't like to disturb them; your friend is enjoying his lessons I think." Anna's voice was so low that Athos had to strain to hear it.

"The lady is an excellent teacher." Athos watched as the dance finished, Porthos bowing while Eleanor sank into an elegant curtsey, her hair glinting in the light of the candles. She stood, her smile lighting the room more than any candle and Anna glanced at Athos, shaking her head before pushing the door open.

"You are better with each dance, monsieur." She waved away Porthos' mumbled protests with a flick of her hand, pouring wine with the other and handing a glass to each musketeer before carefully placing one into Eleanor's hand. Athos sipped at the wine and moved to the table, carefully depositing his hat next to the wine jug. Porthos drained his glass quickly and reached for his doublet where it lay across the back of a chair.

"Best go; got to meet someone."

"Who?" Athos quirked an eyebrow at his friend's haste.

"Flea, to see if she's heard anything."

"Of course." Athos could not keep the gentle sarcasm from his voice and they both glanced at Eleanor as she gave a gentle cough that was almost certainly concealing a laugh; if that had not been obvious then the delicate hand over her smile would have been.

Athos could not prevent a smile and Porthos grinned, shaking his head as he buttoned his jerkin. "And with that, I'm going. Goodnight, Madame."

"Goodnight, Porthos." Eleanor had more or less regained control of herself, although the smallest of smiles still lingered in the corner of her mouth. Porthos shook his head again and nodded a farewell to Athos before heading for the door. Anna sighed before gathering up Porthos' wine glass and making her way from the room.

Athos turned to Eleanor, placing his empty glass on the table. "He appears to be improving."

"Indeed he is, he doesn't quite have your natural grace though." She cocked her head to one side and smiled, her expression inviting and almost impish. Her fingers reached towards him, beckoning and inviting. Athos smiled as he took the unspoken invitation and unbuckled his sword belt, placing it next to his hat on the table before removing his doublet and placing it over a chair. Carefully he moved across the room towards her, his steps steady and measured. Eleanor stood in the centre of the room, her head tilted as she listened to his slow approach.

"I think it may be a case of practice also." He took the last few steps towards her, taking her hand and she smiled as she felt him step back to bow. She sank into a curtsey and he stepped around her as she rose, spinning her with him as he moved. Her hand was light in his and her feet barely made a sound as she danced with him, her body so close that he could feel the heat from her skin. Her hair shone in the candle light as she spun gracefully and he caught her as she stopped, his hands firm on her waist as he lifted her.

When he set her down her cheeks were flushed and her face was full of delight. It was only now, dancing here without audience or the thought of the king's amusement hanging over them that Athos saw Eleanor's true enjoyment of the dance, an unbridled joy and happiness that lit up the room and caught him up so that just for a few moments he shared that happiness and could almost forget his own darkness.

They continued to dance, her laughter sounding as they moved about the room and her trust in him complete as he guided her. From the hall, unnoticed by either of them, Anna watched, smiling fondly as she saw her charge truly happy.

It was much later when Athos sat at the table alone, Eleanor having long gone to bed. A glass of wine sat beside his hand but the rest of the jug was not required tonight. A sudden sound of voices caught his attention from the hall and he looked up sharply as the door opened to reveal a downhearted looking Alice, closely followed by Anna.

"I still don't understand." The young maid looked as though she might dissolve into tears at any moment.

"Just trust me, dear girl, when I say he is not for you. You will find a man one day, but not him." Anna patted the girl on the arm. "Now go home and sleep; it will be better tomorrow." The girl nodded and turned to the hallway, a moment later Athos heard the front door close and Anna sighed wearily. "I'm sorry about that, Monsieur."

"Is she all right?"

"Ah it's nothing, she has calves eyes for your friend, the Monsieur Aramis and I have told her that he is not for her." Anna pulled a vase of flowers from a shelf and brought it to the table, sitting down in one of the chairs.

"You're right; he is not what you would call...suitable marriage material for the young lady." Athos watched as the housekeeper began sorting through the flowers, pulling some of the dead blooms from the vase and setting them to one side.

"I should think not, he has his choice of well bred, beautiful women at the court so I'm told. Not that young Alice is not pretty of course, but his is a game that she does not understand." She sighed and shook her head. "Although one day he will meet his match in a beautiful woman, then the game shall change. After all, there is nothing more dangerous to a man than a woman who knows that she is beautiful."

"How so?"

"They know the effect that it has on a man and they know well how to manipulate them."

"I see."

"I would hazard you do, having been on the losing side of that game yourself I think." She glanced up at him, catching the guarded expression on his face. "Ach do not worry yourself, monsieur; I have four sons and at the moment six grandsons. The look of one wounded by a woman is one that I know all too well." She smiled as Athos visibly relaxed upon realising that the details of his marriage were not public knowledge after all.

"A common danger then." Athos reached for the jug, refilling his glass, although he wasn't quite in need of the entire jug just yet, the need for another glass was pressing after Anna's keen observation. For a moment he wondered if all women in Treville's acquaintance were this observant or just his daughter and housekeeper.

"It is, although in the same notion there is no greater danger to a woman than being beautiful and not knowing it." Anna pulled out the last dead flower and proceeded to re-arrange the remaining ones.

"You will have to explain that one." Athos' interest was piqued; this was not a sentiment he had ever heard.

"A woman unaware of her own beauty is unaware of the effect it can have; she is unprepared for what men might do. The young mistress is a prime example."

"She doesn't know?"

"How can she? She has never seen her face in a looking glass, the way her skin glows or her hair falls and shines like fire in the sun. She has never seen the way men's eyes follow where she moves or the way you stare every time she smiles."

At her last words Athos choked on his wine in what he thought could only be the most undignified of manners. He coughed, trying not to sputter too much and looked at the old housekeeper, the lines around her eyes deep as her face crinkled in a smile. "Madame..."

"Oh don't think I have not noticed; you watch everywhere she goes, smile when she smiles and indulge her in everything. But I think it is a little more than simple lust aye?"

"Even if it were...if I did it could never..."

"Tsk, enough." Anna waved her hand, dismissing his protests. "Even a soldier must know when a woman likes him; that girl never smiles more than when you are around."

"She is the Captain's daughter." To Athos, his voice sounded weak and he tried not to stumble on his words in the face of the woman's knowing smile.

"And you are his best soldier. What better lover could a woman ask for." The flowers finally arranged to her satisfaction she stood once more, placing the vase back on the shelf and scooping up the dead flowers from the table before bidding him goodnight and leaving quietly for her own home.

Athos sat alone long after the last candle had died. His hair was ruffled from where he had run his fingers through it repeatedly as his conversation with Anna ran round his head in never ending circles, dancing endlessly with images of Eleanor as she spun gracefully, her skirts swirling and her hair flying. She was like fire and he was sure that if he touched her then he was certain to get burnt.

_But when could a moth ever resist a flame?_

Sighing, he reached for the rest of the wine.

"The next morning, Aramis sat next to Athos on the bench, concern in his eyes as he swept his gaze over his friend. Athos was more pale than usual with dark shadows under his eyes. Although Aramis was used to seeing his friend in various states and stages of a hangover, this was different. He looked exhausted and burdened, as though a great weight was pressing down on him.

"You look like you haven't slept a wink, my friend, was all well with Eleanor last night?" Athos did not look at him, but placed his elbow on the table and rested his cheek in his hand.

"Nothing happened, I was thinking."

"About what? It must have been serious if you stayed up all night."

"Nothing I care to share."

"Suit yourself." Aramis reached for a loaf of bread and tore off a chunk. "I'm here if you need to tell me."

"I know." Athos voice was quiet and Aramis wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or if his mind was still turning circles over whatever he had been thinking about.

They looked up as voices sounded and d'Artagnan entered the garrison, one hand on Eleanor's arm as he led her towards the stables. Jacques the stable boy saw them coming and hastily ran to move the bucket he had left in the walkway that ran between the stalls. Carefully, d'Artagnan reached into his pocket and pulled out two apples, placing one in Eleanor's hand before leaving her with her mare and offering the other to his own horse a few stalls away. Eleanor held out the apple, smiling as her mare took it, crunching happily. She caressed the animals' powerful neck as the horse ate, murmuring softly. The mare finished the apple and reached out her head, nudging hopefully. Eleanor laughed merrily, her fingers finding the velvety nose and pushing it away as the horse attempted to nibble at the edge of her dress.

"There's nothing else for you, don't be greedy." The horse whickered and Eleanor laughed again, the merry sound floating over to where Athos and Aramis sat.

Athos watched as she spoke to her horse, thinking again on what Anna had said and shaking his head quickly as he caught himself smiling at her laugh. Beside him he felt Aramis sit up suddenly as though a musket shot had sounded. Glancing to one side, Athos saw the sharp shooter look at Eleanor, then look at him, a look of disbelief on his face.

"What?" Athos felt the lack of a nights sleep now and was in no mood for Aramis' cryptic looks.

"My God...you're falling for her." The Spaniard's voice was low, almost as though he couldn't believe what he was saying.

"She's...intriguing." Athos could not currently think of a better word to put in place of what he wanted to say.

"Treville will have your guts." Aramis' eyes darted up to the balcony, almost as though he expected the Captain to appear at any moment.

"You're a fine one to talk about women who are off limits."

"The Captain scares me more than the King." Aramis' reply was instant and Athos could not disagree, Treville was by far a more fearsome man than the King and he was certain that his Captain could be far more creative in matters of punishment.

"Well I'm not planning on letting anything happen." Athos kept his voice low, not wanting anyone else to be aware of their topic of conversation for both of their sakes.

"Neither was I." Aramis turned on the bench, gazing at a Athos steadily, all trace of disbelief gone from his eyes. "But if it does, my friend, then I would not blame you; she is beautiful, lively and intelligent. Also if anyone deserves a little happiness it's you."

"Are you trying to encourage this?" Athos ran a hand through his hair, with no sleep and his normal guarded control clearly not up to scratch, this conversation was too much. Although he could not deny what Anna had clearly seen, he had not been ready to admit it to himself and most certainly not to Aramis.

"Well no," Aramis said slowly. "I still think Treville will hang you from the garrison gate, but there's two sides to everything and you should consider both. I only say that if you do touch her then you're a braver man than I am." He clapped Athos on the shoulder and both of them jumped as they heard the door to Treville's office open and his footsteps on the balcony. The captain made his way down the stairs and both musketeers did their best to not appear guilty as he passed. They watched as he made his way to the stables, kissing Eleanor on the cheek when he reached her and putting out a hand to stroke the horse as he conversed with his daughter. The musketeers looked on as Eleanor's face flickered between anger and frustration and Treville looked as though he was attempting to placate her. Finally her face softened a little and she nodded, after a few moments more she stood motionless and cold as Treville kissed her cheek again and walked away, leaving her alone with the horse. He made his way to the bench and sat down heavily opposite them.

"Is she all right, Sir?" It was Aramis who dared speak first.

"Not really; I just had to tell her that although we've narrowed the list down, we're not really any closer to finding out who attacked her which means she's still in danger." He sighed, turning to look at his daughter. "It's worse than telling the king."

"What has he said?" Athos looked up.

"Oh nothing worse than usual. Mainly he just wants them caught but as no one else has been attacked then he's not exactly bouncing up and down, but he did take a liking to Eleanor."

"I'm sure she's thrilled." Even if he had tried, Athos did not think he could have kept the sarcasm from his voice.

"The only thing that will thrill her is if he leaves her alone." Treville sighed and moved to stand, pausing as he looked at Athos properly for the first time. "You, get some rest, report for duty this afternoon." As Athos opened his mouth to protest Treville gave him such a look that he immediately thought better of it and nodded. Satisfied, Treville stood and glanced at the gate a Porthos and several other musketeers entered the garrison. "Right, let's get this rabble organised."

* * *

**Hope you liked xx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys, here's the next chapter Thank you to .54, merick and dg101 for you lovely reviews.**

* * *

"It would appear that with the girls' recovery they have vanished. Perhaps they do not have the stomach for it. I told you to pass them information, have they done nothing?" The Cardinal sat at his desk, his chin resting on his steepled fingers as he gazed steadily at Rochefort. It pleased him to see the man look uncomfortable yet also disappointed him a little; it had always taken far more than a steady gaze to make Milady falter and he was certain that the woman would have ensured the death of Treville's daughter even if the poison had failed.

"They are planning another attempt but he has kept her hidden away since the attack; she is rarely allowed out and only with an escort."

"Ah yes, an escort of the finest musketeers." The Cardinal's tone was derisive. "Surely these people can deal with that. Ensure that the right information gets to the right people to allow them to put a plan into place and finish what they started." He waved a hand, dismissing Rochefort and sat back in his chair to think. Although he was not willing to actually instruct any of his creatures to do the task, he wanted the girl and preferably one of Treville's favourites dead; it would strike a blow to Treville's heart and mind and leave both him and the musketeer regiment vulnerable. He did not particularly dislike the girl, at least not enough to want her dead but he was not in the habit of allowing personal feelings to get in the way of anything, especially if it would benefit him in the long run.

Rochefort made his way from the palace, collecting an old cloak from the stables as he went. Quickly he made his way through the streets, heading for the musketeer garrison and pulling the hood of the cloak up to conceal his face. He paused at the mouth of an alley within sight of the garrison gate and leant against a wall to wait. In truth he thought the Cardinal was being unfair in blaming him for the failure of these people to kill one blind woman; self pity was not in his nature though and he turned his eyes to the gate to watch for the girl. He was rewarded about an hour later when two figures left the garrison; the young whelp... d'Artagnan, that was it, walked through the gate, a woman holding onto his arm. Even under the hooded cloak that she wore, he could see a glimpse of red hair. He watched as they walked down the street, waiting for them to move a good distance before he slipped out of the alley and into the crowded street after them.

The next day, Aramis sat with Eleanor in the dining room, sipping at a glass of wine; the Captain really did keep an excellent stock and he had to admit that it was one of the perks to caring for Eleanor. They had sat in the study as he read to her and had discussed the book over supper; now he gazed at her as she ran her fingers over the table top, slowly moving a few spilled grains of salt across the wood.

"Did you never consider marrying again after your husband died?" Eleanor's fingers continued to move the salt grains and one corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.

"No; although not for lack of trying on my aunt's part."

"She cared for you?"

"Yes, after my mother died. It was my aunt who arranged my marriage and cared for me after Luc died." The smile turned rueful. "She arranged meetings with several suitors after I came out of mourning. I refused them all."

"No one appealed to you?" Aramis smiled, not finding it hard to believe that Eleanor had turned down suitors without a second thought.

"Oh there were some that could have appealed."

"But..."

"Not one of them could see past the point that I was blind. That was all they could talk about, how I would need to be cared for or how I could not be a 'proper wife'. None of them bothered to ask what I could do; only what I couldn't."

"A perfectly valid reason to turn them down."

"It's nothing uncommon; very few people see past it, sometimes I wonder if it's only me who's blind." Her words saddened Aramis and he realised for the first time, a part of the isolation that Eleanor suffered.

"Then people are foolish, for they are missing a beautiful, bright and engaging young woman with as quick a mind as I have ever known." He reached out, grasping her hand where it rested on the table top and squeezing it, relieved to see a slight smile appear as she closed her fingers around his, grateful for his words.

"You are being kind I think, but thank you."

"Flattery is something I'm well practiced in, but this time, it is not just flattery, it's all true." Her smile told him that she didn't quite believe him but that she was grateful anyway. "Come, we still have some time before Athos arrives, what would you like to do?"

Athos made his way across the garrison courtyard, pushing his main gauche back into the sheath behind his back. It had lost its edge recently and he had just collected it from the garrison smith, the new edge almost fine enough to shave the hairs from his arm.

"Athos." Treville's voice echoed through the courtyard, stopping Athos in his tracks and he turned to see the Captain leaning against the railing outside his office, his expression unreadable as he stared down at his soldier. Quickly the musketeer turned, making his way up the stairs to his Captain. It was only when he reached the top of the stairs that he saw the tension running through Treville's shoulders and the tight grip on the railing "The King wants to see Eleanor again; you're to take her to the palace as soon as you've relieved Aramis."

"Yes, Sir." Without another word, Treville nodded, effectively dismissing him and turned away. Athos turned and made his way back down the steps, a small sigh of exasperation escaping him; the King was fascinated with Eleanor and either did not see or care that the girl did not take kindly to being treated like a toy. As he walked through the darkening streets, Athos wondered what on earth the King could possibly want with her this time and he sighed once again as he realised that she was unlikely to be in a good mood after the visit and that it could not possibly bode well for him.

Anna showed him into the dining room where Eleanor and Aramis sat at the table, each holding a piece of charcoal and sketching on the papers in front of them. A pot sat on the table and Eleanor ran one hand over it as she drew with the other. Aramis' head was bent over his paper, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he concentrated on his drawing. Anna looked at them and shook her head, a fond smile on her face as she left the room. Athos walked up to stand behind the chairs, looking at the two drawings in amusement.

"Hers is better than yours." He smirked as Aramis jumped; a scowl forming on the marksman's face as Eleanor laughed.

"She's had more practice." Aramis huffed as he sat back and looked from his drawing to Eleanor's. "But I suppose you're right." He shrugged at Athos in an 'oh well' gesture and rose from his chair, dropping the charcoal stick onto the table top.

"I told you not to challenge her." Anna bustled back into the room, untying her apron and removing it as she walked.

"And in future, Madame I shall be sure to follow your advice." Aramis placed a hand on his chest and bowed gallantly, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Off with you, you rascal." She flapped the apron at him and he laughed, picking up his hat and placing it carefully on his head.

"Until next time. Eleanor, it was a pleasure losing to you at drawing."

"Perhaps next time you might win." She smiled sweetly at him and he took her hand, kissing it gently before leaving; they could hear his light footsteps as he made his way to the door.

"Well you beat him soundly." Athos sat in the recently vacated chair, casting his gaze once more over the two sketches. Eleanor's had the right shape and was quite clearly the pot on the table, the lines clean and smooth. Aramis' attempt could be identified as the pot only if one knew what it was supposed to be.

"Is his really that bad?" A smile still played across her features.

"Well it is most certainly not good." She laughed merrily, the beautiful sound filling the dining room and he could not stop his answering smile. After a moment, Athos took a deep breath, knowing that his next words would put an end to her laughter. "The King wishes to see you again, tonight." He was right, the smile immediately dropped from her face and her eyes went colder than a winters' morning.

"Again? What does he want now?" Her voice was level but Athos could detect her underlying annoyance.

"I'm not certain, but the Captain has asked me to escort you to the palace."

Eleanor sighed. "The man is a petulant child."

"He's older than you."

"He will be a child until he is free from the Cardinal's skirts." Her breath huffed out in an exasperated sigh and she crossed her arms in annoyance.

"A valid point." Athos could not hold back a smirk.

"Fine. I suppose we should go then." She stood and Anna appeared with a cloak over her arm, carefully draping it over Eleanor's shoulders.

"Do you want me to wait until you return, child?" She watched Eleanor's face, noting the anger that still burned there and wondering what would happen when she returned from the palace.

"No, we'll be fine; you go on home, Anna." She reached out and Athos took her arm, guiding her out onto the streets.

When they reached the palace, they were shown to one of the halls where the King sat playing with one of his model ships, putting small masts into place on the miniature decks. He looked up as they entered, an idiotic grin spreading across his features. Athos guided Eleanor to stand close to the King and stepped back to stand a few paces to the side of her. He saw Eleanor's fingers clench as though missing the touch of his hand before she gathered herself and sank into a low curtsey, her hair falling to shadow her face as she lowered her head.

"Madame Ardoin, I am glad to see you again. I heard you were attacked." Eleanor gave a genuine smile and inclined her head but Athos could see that an underlying tension still sat in her shoulders and back, giving her an air of wariness, as though she might flee at any moment.

"I am quite recovered, majesty. It was kind of you to ask."

"Not at all; we can't have young ladies being attacked like that, it isn't seemly." The King paused and for one moment, Athos thought that the man was genuinely concerned for the girl; this was shattered when the monarch opened his mouth again. "I would hate for you to be too ill to dance; it was quite entertaining to watch. You shall have to dance for us again. Life at court can be so boring at times; I love to find new things to see." Through the Kings' rattling, Athos had watched Eleanor carefully. Her face had grown harder and harder and now she looked like a sculpture of ice and stone. As the King finished she spoke, her voice level but cold.

"Of course, sire, I will be happy to dance for your entertainment whenever you wish."

"Well I would expect nothing less but excellent. I look forward to seeing you again soon." He turned back to his model and Eleanor curtsied once more, not the deep respectful one of before but the slightest dip of her shoulder and inclination of her head. She turned, her hand reaching out and Athos took it, his other hand coming to rest on her back as he guided her quickly from the room, eager to remove her from the King's presence as soon as he could.

"Take me home, Athos." Eleanor's voice was a hoarse whisper and he squeezed her hand in response, not daring to speak lest he tip her anger over the edge or give in to his own.

All the way back to the house Eleanor was silent. Athos glanced at her as they walked; she held her head high and her features might have been carved in marble for all the emotion she showed. The only sign of any reaction was the tension in her jaw and the waves of anger that seemed to radiate from her.

When they entered the house Athos closed the door carefully behind them and reached out to slip the cloak from Eleanor's shoulders, as his hands brushed against her he could feel that she was strung as tight as a bow string and he thought that she might almost be ready to snap. As he turned to hang up the cloak she moved down the hall towards the dining room, her back as straight as a ramrod and her anger clear in every carefully placed footstep.

Athos started as a crash sounded from the dining room. Dropping the cloak to the floor he turned and ran down the hall, drawing his sword as another crash echoed through the house. When he reached the door to the dining room he stopped, the scene in front of him rendering him suddenly uncertain.

Eleanor stood next to the table, her shoulders heaving with angry breaths. Two of the chairs lay at awkward angles partway across the floor. Athos pushed his sword back into the scabbard before taking a slow step into the room, attempting to gather his thoughts and form an idea of how to handle her rage.

"Eleanor?" He kept his voice low, not wanting to startle her or have her anger turned on him.

"All my life I have been a subject of curiosity, fascination and even ridicule." Her voice was steady but Athos was not such a fool as to think she was calm, he could detect the undercurrent of barely controlled anger and the set of her shoulders left him in no doubt. He said nothing as she continued. "But never have I been an object of entertainment as though I were some court _jester_." At the last word she flung the remaining chair away from her, sending it skidding across the floor. With a cry that sounded like an angry scream mixed with a growl she placed both hands on the edge of the table and pushed it away from her, and Athos briefly marvelled at the strength that her anger gave her as the heavy oak table slid across the flagstones. A wooden bowl skittered across the table towards her and she picked it up as it hit her hand, flinging it away from her as angry sobs wracked her body.

Quickly Athos stepped forwards, reaching her in a few strides. He did not hesitate as he grasped her shoulders and, ignoring her angry struggles, turned her towards him. Tears fell down her cheeks as she pushed at his chest, fighting against him but he ignored it, allowing the thick leather of his jerkin to absorb the blows as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. He said nothing as he kept his arms firmly wrapped around her, slowly running one hand over her hair as her struggles ceased and she sobbed against his chest, pouring out her anger and hurt. He stood still and silent as she cried, knowing that for now it was best to let her anger take its course. His hand came to rest against the back of her neck, the tips of his fingers slipping through her hair. He could feel the soft skin of her neck and the heat of her blood below the surface, almost as though the fire that shone in her hair truly ran through her body. As he held her he felt his own anger deep down at the way the King had spoken to her with so little regard for what she might feel.

In time her sobs quieted and her breathing slowed but she remained pressed against him, wrapped in the secure circle of his arms, one hand fisted into the leather of his jerkin. Athos was content to stay there for as long as she needed. Holding her in his arms and feeling the warmth of her body almost gave him a rare sense of security and he was sorry when she eventually drew a deep breath and disentangled herself from his arms before stepping away.

"Forgive me; I should not have lost my temper in such a manner." Furiously she scrubbed a hand over her face, banishing the last of her tears as she put her self control back into place.

"You had every reason to be angry."

"Some would disagree and some would say that I ought to be used to it by now. However I think now it might be time for sleep; my aunt always said that everything looks better in the morning."

"Well we must hope she is right."

"If you could help me put the chairs back then I would be grateful. I think Anna might throw a fit if she found them like this in the morning."

"Quite right." It did not take him long to retrieve the chairs, find the bowl and pull the table back onto place. Before long, they made their way up the stairs, stopping when they reached the door to Eleanor's room.

"Are you sure you're all right?" He frowned as he looked at her.

"Don't worry, my intemperance has passed. Gascon tempers are like gunpowder; the slightest spark and they blow, but they burn hot and quick and are gone almost as soon as the fire starts." She smiled sadly.

"Well Aramis will be happy to add that to his list of things to compare d'Artagnan's temper to." He could not help but smile as she laughed softly. "Well I will bid you goodnight." He turned towards his room, pausing when she reached out, catching his arm with an unnerving accuracy.

"Thank you for..." She left the sentence unfinished but he understood her meaning.

"I was glad to be of help." She smiled and he looked down as her hand drifted up his arm, guiding her as she took a small step towards him.

"I know." Her voice was quiet and Athos looked at her; feeling her hand travel lightly up his arm, her fingers making a faint sound as they slipped over the leather of his jerkin. He felt her trace across the fleur-de-lis on his shoulder and she was close enough that he could feel her breath ghosting across his throat. Her expression was hesitant, almost fearful as she slipped her hand over his collar, her fingers light on the side of his neck, making him shiver. She paused for a moment and tilted her head up, pushing gently on the back of his neck. Athos did not know what made him allow her to pull him towards her and press her lips gently to his, but God forgive him, he did not want to resist her.

As he settled his hands on her waist, the scent of her filling his senses; he felt his control slipping and quickly broke the kiss. "Eleanor, I..."

"Don't, please." Her voice was quiet and he gazed at her. "Be mine tonight."

He smiled, lowering his gaze. "As I have said before; what kind of gentleman would I be if I were to refuse you such a request?" It was only now, as he held her here, her face tilted towards him that he realised just how much he wanted her and had done for some time.

Quickly she closed the gap, her hand moving up to his cheek. She pressed her lips to his and he gripped her waist firmly, feeling her ribs through her corset. He felt her fingers twine in his hair and allowed her to pull him closer, pressing her body against his as though she could not be close enough. He pushed against her, moving her backwards and heard the soft thud as her back hit the door. Quickly she reached back and fumbled with the latch before drawing him with her into the room.

He felt her fingers moving over the buttons on his jerkin and inhaled the scent of her hair as she pushed the leather from his shoulders. He drew in a sharp breath as her lips found his neck and she planted soft kisses up towards his jaw, the air hissing through his teeth as she pressed a kiss against his pulse. Quickly he grasped her shoulders and turned her away from him, dropping a kiss on the back of her neck as his fingers made short work of the laces on her corset. He released the garment and dropped it to the floor, leaving her shoulders bare as her shift slipped low. She moved to turn back to him but he held her there, one arm across her chest and the other across her stomach, her heart beating fast against his spread fingers. Pressing his body against hers, he touched his lips to her hair in a feather light kiss. He heard her quick breaths as he lowered his head, his next kiss falling on her cheek where the normal rose blush had increased with desire. Gently he placed kisses lower along her jaw and neck, nudging her head aside to expose more of her throat to his mouth, her breath faltering with each touch of his skin on hers. When he reached the base of her throat he lowered his head still further, turning his attentions to her collar bone and the hollow above it. He let his teeth graze the sensitive skin above the bone and felt her back arch and the muscles in her stomach coil as her breath hitched in her chest. She made a low, tortured sound and shifted in his arms, slippery as an eel as she spun to face him, seeking his mouth with her own once more as her hands quested over his back, seeking the hem of his shirt.

He felt her breath on his skin as she dragged his shirt over his head and he vaguely heard it drop to the floor before she was on him again, exploring his body with her hands and mouth. He made a low sound in his throat as she dropped exploratory kisses across his chest and stomach and she felt his muscles tense. His hands were swift and sure as he pushed her shift down to her waist, her skin like silk under his calloused palms. The rest of their clothes quickly found their way to the floor and Athos struggled with the overload on his senses as her lips and hands roamed over his body, ruthlessly hunting down every sensitive spot and making his nerves sing. He ran his hands over her bare back, pressing his fingers into the small hollow at the base of her spine and pulled her to him, feeling her body sag against him as she shivered at his touch, the ends of her hair tickling his wrist. Kissing her deeply once more he pulled her even closer and guided her towards the bed.

He made love to her slowly, unwilling to let it be over too soon and eager to savour every touch and kiss. She was passionate and strong, her lithe body wrapping around him as though she would never let him go. As he lay with her, their breaths coming together in a ragged harmony, the touch and scent of her overwhelmed him and he lost himself in her, momentarily forgetting everything but her.

As the night grew darker, the moon making its way across the sky, they lay entwined, their limbs heavy and their bodies sated as the sweat dried on their skin. With his arms wrapped around her and the heat of her body running through him, Athos slept untroubled for the first time in a long time.

* * *

**Well there we go, they've finally worked it out. Hope you enjoyed it xx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Well then, here we are with another chapter. Thank you to .54, Merick, DoubtfulGuest, Keesha and Twitch88 for the reviews on the last chapter, I'm glad you enjoyed it :-)**

* * *

When Athos awoke, the sky had barely begun to lighten. Eleanor lay facing away from him, her back tucked neatly against his chest and his arm resting across the gentle curve of her waist. She still slept soundly, her fiery hair spilling across the bolster and her shoulder left bare where the covers had slipped. Carefully, the musketeer disentangled himself from the warmth of her body and slipped from the bed, careful not to wake her. Quietly he retrieved his clothes from the floor and pulled them on, his gaze shifting to the door as he heard a soft sound from downstairs. With one last glance at the still sleeping Eleanor, he picked up his jerkin and opened the door, stopping in his tracks when he came face to face with Anna.

The housekeeper looked him up and down before glancing behind him to where her charge lay; her expression telling him that she had indeed taken note of the rumpled covers and clothes on the floor.

"Well then, I am shocked." She turned her gaze on Athos, and the musketeer could swear that she looked pleased.

"Madame...I..." Once again the woman had Athos stumbling over his words, terror at the thought that she might report back to Treville overcoming him.

"I would have thought better of you, monsieur, sneaking out and leaving the lady alone." The woman glared at him and Athos almost sighed with relief. "Get yourself back in there and conduct yourself in a proper manner; you still have time before your young friend arrives." She raised an eyebrow, seeming satisfied when Athos arranged his features into a suitably contrite expression and inclined his head.

"If d'Artagnan should arrive early..."

"Then I will distract the boy with breakfast and tell him that you have not yet risen from much needed rest." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Now get back in that room before she wakes and finds you gone." She reached out, pushing her hand gently against his shoulder to urge him back into the room and he obeyed, stepping back as Anna reached for the door handle, pulling the door closed with a soft click.

Athos turned his back to the door, as his gaze once more settled on Eleanor he was surprised to see her mouth turned up in a smile.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough." She opened her eyes and shifted, one leg emerging from under the covers. "She's right you know; it is rude to sneak out of a lady's room." She shifted again, stretching like a cat and propping herself up on one elbow, amusement on her features.

"So I have been informed." Athos carefully draped his doublet over a chair and made his way towards the bed, watching her head tilt as she listened to his approach. "I must beg your forgiveness." His tone was formal but Eleanor could hear the smile in his voice.

"I might forgive you." Her smile was impish as he sat on the bed beside her and she curled her body around him. "You'll just have to make amends." Athos did not need her to say how; her smile told him all he needed to know and he leant down, placing his fingers under her chin and tilting her face towards his.

"Then that is what I shall do." She gasped as he quickly closed the gap, pressing his lips to hers in a deep kiss as his other hand came up to caress her bare shoulder. After all, he reasoned, they did still have time before d'Artagnan arrived.

The next morning, Treville saw Aramis as the Spaniard headed to his rooms for fresh clothes after spending the night guarding Eleanor.

"How is she?"

"She seems much happier now, Captain; remarkably so in fact."

"Really? I would have thought she would grow more fractious by the day."

"Apparently not; she seemed quite content last night."

"Well I'm surprised to hear it but well done. Whatever you're doing, keep at it."

"Yes Sir." Treville watched the musketeer go and shook his head in mild amazement; his daughter had never liked being caged and he marvelled at the ability of his four Inseparables to keep her happy.

That evening, Athos made his way to the house, mentally gathering himself. He did not want to do what he was about to, but his mind had been turning circles all day and he had eventually come to the conclusion that it was the right thing.

_What is right is not always easy._

Anna let him in, her shrewd gaze sweeping over him and a small frown appearing on her face when she saw him. Porthos and Eleanor were sat in the study, she at the spinning wheel and he in a nearby chair. Athos watched for a moment from the doorway, his gaze following the movement of her hands as she drew the wool fibres towards the bobbin, her foot moving the wheel steadily. They both turned as Athos stepped into the room, Eleanor's hands not stopping their steady movements. Porthos stood, his gaze sweeping over his brother as he realised that all was not quite well; although Athos could school his expression to perfect neutrality, there was still something in the set of his body that left an alarm ringing in the back of Porthos' mind.

"You all right?" The big musketeer's voice was low.

"Fine, tired but nothing worse." Athos noted the frown that appeared, stating that Porthos did not believe him but would not push the point.

"Right, I'd best head off then." He turned to face Eleanor. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, Eleanor."

"Goodnight, Porthos." Eleanor smiled; her hands steady as she joined a new piece of wool onto the end of the last one. With one last look at Athos, Porthos left the room, pushing his hat onto his head. Eleanor tilted her head, listening as he moved down the hallway. It was not until she heard the front door of the house close that she spoke, her voice soft.

"What is it?" Athos started, looking up at her and once more cursing how perceptive she was. He took a deep breath as her hand reached out to stop the wheel and she sat quietly, waiting for him to speak.

"What happened between us...it should never have happened."

"And it should not happen again, is that it?" Although her voice was calm, Athos could see by her deep, measured breaths that she was fighting to keep her composure.

"It must not." Her breath shuddered and he longed to touch her and comfort her but he stopped himself.

"By should never have happened, do you mean that you wish it never had?"

"No of course not." He paused, drawing a deep breath."But you are the Captain's daughter."

"Is that all that defines me to you?"

"No, but he has trusted me to protect you." He flinched as she took a step towards him, using his voice as a guide.

"Then protect me as my lover. Please, Athos don't end this out of some sense of honour to him." Her voice was pleading and he could hear unshed tears in her words.

"I cannot; this must end." He heard her breath catch in her chest and she placed a hand on her stomach as though to hold herself together. "I'm sorry." At these words, her tears spilled over, falling like drops of crystal down her cheeks and Athos clenched his hand to stop the urge to brush her tears away. After a moment, she nodded, drawing herself up to her full height and pulling a deep, shuddering breath.

"If that is what you wish then forgive me, monsieur for taking so much of your time. I will not trouble you further." Her tone was painfully formal and he tried not to flinch as she turned without another word and made her way from the room, her hand groping for the wall and her footsteps unsteady. He heard her make her way up the stairs and a few moments later the sound of a door closing heavily. Once he heard the door close, Athos slumped back against the desk, allowing his carefully schooled neutrality to fall away. This had hurt him more than he dared to let Eleanor know, but it was not his own pain that concerned him, that was a constant companion; her pain, however, was almost more than he could bear. Suddenly he felt the need for numbness that only wine could provide made his way to the dining room.

As he reached for the wine bottle, Anna appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips and a thunderous expression on her face. "What have you done?"

"Madame..."

"She has bolted the door to her room and I can hear the tears in her voice. At the moment there is only one person with the power to cause her that much pain so what have you done?"

"I told her this must end." With the appearance of the housekeeper, Athos had let his carefully schooled expression to reappear, but he could hear the layer of pain in his own voice and he was certain that Anna could too.

"For what possible reason?" She had stepped into the room with the air of an advancing hurricane and Athos thought that at this moment he would prefer to face the entire Spanish army on his own than this woman.

"The Captain has entrusted me with her safety; if this...between us continues then she will be in danger...to be with me is dangerous." Athos could not find the words to tell her that people who loved him, who he loved, often died. He sat down heavily, gripping the edge of the table and staring hard at the floor as he tried to regain his composure. He heard footsteps and saw the hem of Anna's dress swing into view, a moment later she placed her fingers under his chin, tilting his face towards her. When she spoke, her voice was softer.

"She loves a soldier and that is always dangerous, but as the Captain's daughter it is a danger she is familiar with."

"But..."

"I wasn't finished." Her firm tone silenced him. "Her Father has entrusted you and your friends to protect her body, but she has entrusted you alone to protect her heart. So take it, protect it, let her love you and love her back in whatever way you can instead of causing yourself all this pain." She stepped back and gazed down him, nodding in approval when he nodded and stood. "Good, now get up to that room and apologise." Athos nodded and turned for the door, pausing before he left the room.

"My thanks, Madame, for your advice."

"You're welcome, but I have one more piece of advice for you." She waited until he had turned fully to look at her before continuing. "If you hurt that girl again then her Father will be the least of your worries." She raised an eyebrow at him and Athos could well believe that she would make his life hell if he hurt Eleanor again.

"I shall bear that in mind, Madame." He inclined his head graciously and left the room, preparing himself for his next battle.

He paused at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the door of Eleanor's room. His feet felt like lead and he sighed before making his way heavily up the steps. He paused outside the door, staring at the dark wood and trying to find the right words to say to the girl on the other side. He could hear his own breathing and the blood pounding in his ears as his heart crashed against his ribs. If he concentrated, beneath that, he could hear Eleanor through the door, her breaths shuddering softly as she cried. Mentally cursing himself for being a coward he raised his hand and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

"Eleanor?" He heard her breath catch as he spoke, and, when there was a long silence, thought that she would ignore him.

"Leave me alone, Athos." He flinched; there was no strength or anger in her voice, only a deep sadness.

"Please let me in, I must talk to you." He could hear a note of desperation in his own voice. There was another long silence and eventually he heard movement, after what seemed like an eternity, the sound of the bolt being slid aside came through the door. After pausing to gather himself once more, Athos reached for the latch and pushed open the door, stepping hesitantly into the room.

Eleanor had moved away from the door and now stood in the shadows on the other side of the room. There was just enough light from the moon outside for him to make out her pale face and the glisten of tears that ran down her cheeks. As Athos looked at her, he felt pain in his chest; she looked utterly dejected, worse even than when the King had upset her. The thought that he had caused her worse pain than the thoughtless monarch was almost too much to bear.

"Say what you have to say, Athos. Is it not enough that you've upset me? That now you must come and see what you've done?" Her voice was hard and Athos flinched as she lashed at him with her words.

"I..." He began to speak but Eleanor shook her head, dragging in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, that was cruel." She looked ashamed and more tears coursed down her cheeks, dripping onto the white lace at the top of her shift where it showed above the corset.

"You have every right to be." He stepped forwards, stopping when she flinched away, her arms wrapping around herself. "Anna spoke to me; she helped me see the error of my ways." He stepped forwards again, until he stood just in front of her and dropped to his knees, his head bowed; he could think of no other way to show how contrite he was, even if she could not see him. "I must beg your forgiveness, my lady. If you still wish what you asked downstairs then I will honour your wish; but if you will no longer have me then I understand and I will not ask again." There was a long silence but Athos dared not move, he remained with his head bowed, more deferential to her than he had ever been to the King. He saw the fabric of her dress shift as she moved and held his breath as he saw her hand lift from her side, questing forward as she searched. After a moment, her fingers brushed his hair and he heard her breath catch as she realised that he knelt before her. She ran her hand across his hair, resting her palm flat across the back of his head.

"I wish it, oh God I wish it." He could hear hope now, intermingled with the tears in her voice and let his breath out, relief flooding through him as he looked up at her to see her smile. He stood, pulling her into his arms and she came willingly, resting her head against his chest as he held her tightly.

"Forgive me; I thought it for the best." Even as he said those words, Athos realised he had been a fool. He did not want to let her go and to hurt her had been unthinkable.

"I forgive you; you only wanted to do your duty." She raised her face to his and he kissed her, tasting the salt from her tears and resting one hand on her cheek. Gently she disentangled herself from his arms and grasped his hand from where it still rested on her cheek. As she turned, leading him towards the bed, Athos realised that he was now as beholden to Eleanor as he had ever been to her Father.

* * *

**Well there we go, hope you liked it xx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys, so basically I've had a really rubbish day at work with horrific customers. I've got a theory that I'm mean to fictional characters and that's the only thing that stops me wanting to punch real people. Hence, on the back of that, some of this lot are going to have a really bad day in the next couple of chapters.**

**Anyways, now I have that little rant out of my system. Thank you to Merick, Guest, Doubtful Guest and dg101 for the reviews on the last chapter, it's those that make me happy.**

* * *

Rochefort pulled the hood of his cloak further over his face as he entered the small tavern. He stepped inside, wrinkling his nose at the smell of unwashed bodies and stale beer that hung in the air amidst the smoke from small, grimy lanterns. Quickly he wove his way through the crowd to the small table in the corner and sat down on the rickety stool, this really was the lowest and most disgusting of places.

"Well? Have you got any further with your plans yet?" The figure opposite him regarded him with bright blue eyes from beneath a dark woollen cloak that held no warmth, and Rochefort had the distinct impression that this man would think nothing of stabbing him. Indeed he had the feeling that this man was one of the most dangerous he had ever met; he was small and lithe, yet hard and strong. He also did not seem to be troubled by a conscience.

"She is guarded and walks on crowded streets, it makes abduction difficult." His voice was soft and calm, giving the impression that he could be trusted, but Rochefort would make no such mistake.

"Not if you choose the right time and place, really I don't know how you managed to get near her the first time with your level of incompetence."

"Have a care, my lord, or I may give you a display of my incompetence." The blue eyes flashed and Rochefort sighed, he was well aware how dangerous this man was, but he would not be intimidated.

"How about we try a display of competence? Just for a change. There is a small alley just off the Rue Jacob that she walks past between the garrison and her Father's house. Drive her into that, it will be perfect. Do not fail, for if my master punishes me for your mistakes again then I will come after you."

"Your master seems very keen on her death."

"He has his reasons, as does yours. Now, are we agreed that something will be done?" He watched as the man sat back in his seat with an air of lazy confidence, the bright gaze unwavering.

"I will advise my master on what you have told me and will act on his decision."

"Well make sure you advise him well." Rochefort stood, pulling his cloak about him and turned away from the man, picking his way carefully through the crowd and back out onto the dark streets.

When Athos awoke he couldn't move his arm, it took him a moment to realise that it was trapped beneath Eleanor where she lay curled against him, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder and her arm thrown across his chest. Looking down he could see that she still slept, her long lashes fanning out across pale cheeks and her lips slightly parted. The early morning sunlight had crept into the room and had fallen across the bed, illuminating her pale skin so that it looked almost translucent; if he looked closely, he fancied he could almost see her blood dancing through the faint veins that traced beneath the surface. She moved closer to him in her sleep, causing the covers to slip to her waist. As her skin was exposed, Athos caught sight of a mark that he had not noticed before; a silvery scar that traced across her ribs and as he looked, Athos could see that it was not the only one. He frowned, wondering what on earth could have happened to her to cause these and felt a swell of rage at the thought that someone might have harmed her. Carefully he reached up with his free hand and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek; Anna had been right, she truly was beautiful and he cursed himself once again for what he had done the previous evening. She shifted at his touch, burrowing her head further into his shoulder and he smiled, dropping his head back against the bolster and content for the moment to rest with her in his arms.

When he made his way downstairs, leaving Eleanor to get dressed, Athos was surprised to see that d'Artagnan had not yet arrived. Anna caught his questioning glance as she laid freshly baked bread on the table.

"A message came from Captain Treville this morning; your young friend was delayed on an errand. He asks if you will take Eleanor to the garrison to meet your friend there, that way he can see her too and she can say hello to her horse."

"If that is what the Captain has asked then that is what we shall do."

It was late morning as they made their way to the garrison, Eleanor's hand resting lightly on his arm. Her bright hair was concealed by a new cloak of dark green wool which Anna had decided would suit her; looking down and catching sight of the delicate embroidery in silvery grey that traced the hem, Athos could not disagree with the housekeeper. The air had turned cold as autumn took the city firmly in its grasp, moving steadily towards winter. Although it was not yet noon, the sky was dull, and as he looked up at the rolling grey clouds, Athos was sure that there would be rain later. As they entered the garrison gate, Athos saw Aramis and Porthos sat at the table, he nodded in greeting to them and guided Eleanor across the yard towards them.

"Good morning, Eleanor." Aramis' voice was warm with greeting and he smiled as Eleanor pulled her hood back to reveal cheeks flushed with the cold.

"Good morning, Aramis." The musketeer was rewarded with a bright smile and offered Eleanor a cup of warmed ale from the jug that Serge had just brought to the table, carefully placing it in the girls' hand. She sipped it appreciatively, and they looked at her as her head turned sharply towards the archway. A moment later, d'Artagnan entered the garrison and made his way towards them.

"Where've you been?" Porthos looked at their youngest brother as he gulped down the ale that Aramis handed him.

"Captain needed a message taking and I was the one he saw first." The boy put the now empty cup on the table and turned to Eleanor. "I'm sorry, Eleanor that I wasn't there this morning, I've just got to take the reply to the Captain and then I'm at your disposal."

"That's quite alright, take all the time you need." She gave another smile and turned again as a horse's whinny echoed across the yard. "Oh dear, she's calling." They turned towards the stables and saw that the girl was indeed right; Eleanor's chestnut mare had spotted her mistress and now, as they watched, she raised her head once more and whinnied again, tossing her long mane and kicking at the door of her stall. "Alright, alright, I'm coming. Athos, would you be so kind?" She reached to the cloak clasp at her neck and unfastened it, slipping the dark fabric from her shoulders.

"Of course." Athos reached out taking the cloak from her and placing it on the bench. He swiped an apple from the table before placing a gentle hand on Eleanor's elbow and with a nod to his friends, led her across the yard to the stables. Aramis and Porthos watched as their friend led Eleanor, his hand gentle on her arm and attentive to every word she spoke as they walked away.

"Well she's got him well trained hasn't she?" Porthos chuckled quietly.

"Porthos, my friend, I believe she has us all well trained." Aramis absentmindedly picked up the cloak and folded it as he watched Eleanor greet her horse, feeding her the apple that Athos had taken. The animal nudged at her and Eleanor laughed merrily. He looked down; admiring the delicate embroidery along the hem and turned as d'Artagnan came back down the steps flopping down onto the bench opposite him."Well?" Aramis looked at the boy who was tearing a chunk from a loaf of bread.

"Captain's looking at the reply then he'll be down to see Eleanor." The boy looked up as both of his friends sat up sharply in their seats. "What?"

"Did Athos..?" Aramis' was wide eyed.

"He just laughed." Porthos' voice was quiet with disbelief.

"And?" d'Artagnan looked from one to the other; unsure of what was going on.

"Porthos and I have known him for just over five years and in that time I've never heard him laugh." Aramis' gaze flicked back to their friend in the stables.

"What? Never?" d'Artagnan was incredulous, he was sure Athos must have laughed at some point.

"Not once." Porthos shook his head.

"Think about it, in the time you've been in Paris have you ever heard him laugh?" Aramis watched as the boy thought.

"No, I suppose not."

"He smiles but he never laughs." All three men looked up as a board creaked on the balcony above and all three drew in a breath as they saw Treville standing on the balcony, the railing creaking under his clenched hands and his gaze fixed on Athos and Eleanor. "I don't think we're the only ones who heard." Aramis whispered under his breath, falling silent as Treville's gaze fell on them.

"Porthos." The Captain's voice was a terse growl. "Bring Eleanor to my office." The big musketeer rose from the bench without a word and made his way towards the stables, hearing the door to Treville's office slam as he did so.

Athos looked up sharply as he heard Treville's voice and felt Eleanor freeze beside him. "He knows." Her voice was a hoarse whisper and all of the colour had drained from her face.

"You're sure?"

"Yes; can you not hear the anger in his voice?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Face him; he deserves that much at least." She reached out, groping for his hand and squeezed it briefly as Porthos made his way slowly towards them.

"Madame, the Captain wants to see you." His worry must have sounded in his voice for if possible, Athos saw Eleanor pale a shade further. After a moment, she nodded and squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath as she held her hand out towards Porthos.

"Very well." Porthos, took her hand gently led her across the courtyard, glancing back at Athos as he did; the worry in his friend's eyes doing nothing to settle his own fears. At the bottom of the stairs she stopped. "Just to the door, Porthos."

"Are you sure?" Although he could offer little or no support to her, Porthos was surprised that she wanted to face the captain alone.

"I think at this moment he is angrier than I have ever known him, I will not put you in the line of fire that I have caused."

"You're braver than I am, Madame." They continued up the stairs, her hand gripping his tighter with every step, taking comfort in his solid presence. They came to a stop outside Treville's office and Porthos placed her hand on the door, watching as she took a deep breath, raised her head slightly and entered the room.

Eleanor carefully closed the door behind her and stepped further into the room, reaching for the rough wood of the wall to guide her. She could hear her father pacing, his fury radiating from him in waves.

"Well?" He barked out the word.

"Well what?" She knew she shouldn't provoke him but his sharp question and clear anger made her own temper flare.

"Have you taken Athos as your lover?" He paced closer to her, stopping just in front of her so that she felt the air move and Eleanor knew there was no point in trying to conceal the truth.

"Yes." Her voice was quiet but steady and she was unprepared when he gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall, his fingers digging into her flesh with enough force to bruise. When he spoke his voice was a furious growl.

"You just be thankful that I am not a violent man, girl; there are fathers who have killed their daughters for less." His voice sounded as though he might still be contemplating such action and Eleanor froze, saying nothing. "I set my most trusted soldier to guard you and you take him to your bed. For all I thought you were I never imagined you would act like a whore." His voice had risen and he shook her as he spoke, his face inches from hers as he shouted and she was sure that the musketeers in the yard below must be able to hear. "What were you thinking, allowing yourself to be seduced?" He shook her again and she pushed him away from her, if he did not care if his soldiers heard him shout, then fine, neither did she.

"He didn't seduce me, Father..."

"You seduced him then?" He spun on his heel and she heard him pacing the room, his tread heavy on the wooden floor.

"No one seduced anyone; it's called a mutual attraction." Although her anger had risen and now matched his, Eleanor was shaking, she had known him angry before but he had never laid a hand on her like this, she could feel points of pain where his fingers had gripped her and was sure that bruises must even now be forming.

Down in the yard, Aramis glanced over at where Athos paced the stables before turning back to Porthos and d'Artagnan. "What do you reckon the Captain will do to him?"

"Flay him alive probably." D'Artagnan murmured quietly so as not to let Athos hear.

"Men have demanded worse for their daughter's lovers."

"You'd know." Porthos could not suppress a quiet snigger. They looked up as Treville's voice sounded loudly from his office.

"He doesn't sound happy." Aramis grimaced.

"Have you ever heard him shout like that?" d'Artagnan was certain he had never heard Treville quite this angry.

"Once, and I've no desire to do so again in a hurry." They looked up again, their eyes wide as Eleanor's voice sounded from the office.

"Is she..?" d'Artagnan's voice was filled with disbelief.

"She's shouting back at him." Aramis could not disguise his admiration for the girl's courage.

"Well that settles it; he definitely passed on his temper." Porthos could not hold back a slight chuckle.

Treville glared at Eleanor as he paced back and forth; she did not seem repentant for her actions."I put him with you to keep you safe, not to amuse you. I will not have my daughter acting like a whore." He bellowed the last word and she stepped towards him, her hair flying about her in red waves.

"He is kind to me, Father, unlike the last man you chose for me who took to beating me because I could not see the blows coming." She stopped, her hand flying to her mouth as she realised what she had said. Her breath caught in shock at herself, for that was one secret she had always meant to spare him. The anger dissipated from the room instantly, replaced by shocked silence. Although Eleanor could not see his look of horror, she could feel it and closed her eyes in sadness as he slumped into his chair, the heavy impact reverberating through the floor.

"I...I never knew...you never told me..."

"You never needed to know, I was his by law; there was nothing to be done." Her voice was choked in sadness and she made her way across the room, feeling around the desk to the chair and kneeling in front of him, finding his hands, she clasped them in her own. Treville saw the grief on her face and knew that she had never told him in an effort to spare him the current pain he felt. A tear rolled slowly down her cheek, glistening like a diamond. He struggled to find his voice, not wanting to ask the question in his mind but knowing that he needed to.

"Tell me what happened...what did he do to you?" He felt her hands tighten on his and gripped her fingers where they entwined with his. When she spoke, her voice shook.

"He used me for sport...he would hit me, then tell me to run; then he would hunt me through the house or grounds and beat me when he caught me." Tears coursed down her cheeks and Treville shook his head.

"Did no one try to help you?"

"Everyone was scared of him; he would hit the servants, the horses, the dogs...anyone who got in his way. One boy...one boy tried; he tried to stop Luc from hitting me once." Eleanor choked back a sob. "Luc turned on him, he started to hit the boy...I heard his cries as his bones cracked under Luc's boots and fists. Eventually the boy stopped crying out and Luc summoned other servants to take him away, warning that the same would happen to anyone else who tried to help me. Then he turned on me and smeared the boy's blood on my face before beating me worse than he ever had before. As he did, he told me that if I asked for help then I would be cast out and abandoned for not being a good wife."

"Surely you didn't believe him?"

"He told me that every day...and eventually I started to believe it." She broke into sobs. "I can still hear that boy crying out as he was killed for trying to help me and I could never risk it happening again, that was why I never told you."

"But why not until now? You could have told me after he died."

"To let you know that what you thought was a happy marriage was miserable; and to cause you this pain you feel now? I didn't want to."

"That was all I ever wanted for you, some happiness after your mother died."

"Then please, Father, let me have this. Athos makes me happy, please don't forbid it." She bowed her head, tears falling freely down her cheeks as she put herself at his mercy. Treville looked down at her; he felt crushed and exhausted by what she had told him, in all his worst nightmares he had never thought that her marriage could have been so terrible. He sighed, gathering himself and attempting to clear the lump in his throat.

"Well I suppose worse choices have been made for you. Alright, let's see what he has to say for himself." He rose, gently untangling his fingers from hers. Eleanor remained knelt on the floor, as though she feared what he might do if she rose. Quickly Treville moved across the room and pulled the door open; his gaze sweeping across the silent garrison yard. "Athos." He heard the echo of his voice bouncing back at him from the walls. Treville did not wait to see if his soldier followed him; he knew his order would be obeyed without question. He moved to stand near the desk, his gaze flickering down towards Eleanor where she still had not moved. After a few moments he heard slow, measured footsteps as Athos stepped into the room.

Athos stood silent and still, his hat clasped to his chest as he waited for Treville to speak. It took all his self control not to look at Eleanor where she knelt on the floor, tears falling down her cheeks like rain running down marble. Treville stalked towards him like an angry lion and Athos fixed his gaze on a point on the wall, careful not to move lest he trigger an explosion of anger. Although the Captain was no longer a young man, he was still strong, his muscles lean and hard and Athos realised that Treville could easily kill him if he so chose to.

"Of all of you, I never expected it to be you that fell for her." Athos glanced at Treville in surprise; the Captain's voice was quiet with no trace of the anger he had expected. "What, no excuses?"

"No, Sir."

"You care for her?" Treville heard Athos' breath catch as the question caught him by surprise.

"I...Yes, Sir."

"By all rights I should put an end to this, cast you from the regiment and put her in a convent." Treville did not miss the flicker of Athos' gaze that darted between himself and Eleanor; nor did he miss the sharp intake of breath from where his daughter still knelt on the floor. "However, luckily for you, she fights for what she wants and it seems she wants you. She's a headstrong creature, just like her mother and she has asked me not to forbid this; and I have done wrong by her too many times to deny her this." Treville stepped in close enough that Athos could just about hear his next, barely whispered words. "But remember one thing; if you hurt her, I will kill you with my bare hands."

"Understood, Sir."

"Good, now wait outside; I need a moment with Eleanor." Athos inclined his head in gratitude and turned, quickly making his way to the door. Treville waited until he heard the door close softly before making his way over towards Eleanor. He stood in front of her and reached down, grasping her arms and pulling her gently to her feet. Carefully he placed a hand on her cheek and brushed a tear away with his thumb, she lent her head into his hand and he gazed at her, raising his other hand to settle on her other cheek.

"You're sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, Father."

"With Athos? Really?" She smiled; a small breath escaping that might have been a laugh.

"Would you rather it were Aramis?"

"I suppose not." He had to admit she was right; for all that he liked the sharpshooter, he was not a suitable companion for his daughter.

"From what I hear, most of your musketeers are trying to bed most of Paris; be thankful I picked the one that isn't."

"Alright." He drew a deep breath, still holding her head in his hands. "You need to tell him."

"Father..."

"No, listen; this is darkest part of your past, if you tell him what that brute of a husband did to you then he knows everything and your slate is clean. Take him home and tell him everything." He watched as she considered his words before finally nodding.

"Yes, Father." He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She tilted her head, finding his cheek and placing a gentle kiss against it. "Thank you, Papa."

"To refuse you this after what you told me would make me a monster." He sighed. "Alright, let's get you home." He took her hand and led her to the door, not surprised when he opened it, to see Athos pacing the walkway. "Athos." The musketeer stopped immediately and turned to face them. Treville fancied he could almost hear the bated breath of the other inseparables on the bench below.

"Sir?"

"Eleanor has something to tell you; take her home, Aramis will relieve you as usual tonight."

"Yes, Captain." Athos reached out, taking Eleanor's hand from Treville's and leading her down the stairs, hearing the door close behind them as the Captain disappeared back into his office. The others rose from the bench as Athos led Eleanor down the last step.

"How in God's name did you manage to come out of that alive?" Aramis could not help but smile.

"My Father isn't impossible to reason with." Eleanor smiled, the last vestiges of her tears vanishing.

"You mean you have him wrapped around your finger?" d'Artagnan moved forwards, eyeing the girl suspiciously.

"Not necessarily; but daughters can reason with their Fathers." She smiled and the young Gascon shook his head.

"That settles it; if I ever have children, I don't want daughters."

"I've met many men who wish that they could not or did not have daughters and to this day I've never yet met one that had the choice." Eleanor's smile grew broader and her head tilted as the door to Treville's office opened once more.

"Athos, get going, there's a storm coming and if Eleanor catches cold it'll be you that Anna comes after." He watched as Athos nodded and murmured to Eleanor.

"My cloak..."

"Allow me, Madame." Aramis reached back to the bench and picked up the new cloak, sweeping it around Eleanor's shoulders and deftly fastening the clasp. Carefully he pulled the hood up to conceal her hair, gently tucking a few fiery locks that had escaped back into the folds of the cloak. "There, all ready."

"My thanks, Aramis." Eleanor rewarded him with a brilliant smile and bid them farewell as Athos took her hand and led her from the garrison.

As they walked through the streets, the sky began to darken, the oncoming storm turning the afternoon into an early night. Suddenly the air grew chill and Eleanor lifted her head; breathing deeply as she did so and a smile formed on her face.

"What is it?" Athos glanced down at her as a sharp wind blew, pulling her hair from beneath her hood in fiery strands that whipped about her face.

"If I'm not much mistaken the storm is here." Her eyes were bright in anticipation and as he glanced up at the sky, Athos had to admit that she was probably right. Dark clouds had rolled in across the sky and the wind was not relenting.

"We had best hurry then; I doubt the Captain will be impressed if I allow you to get soaked through, never mind what Anna will say."

She nodded reluctantly and her grip on his arm tightened. Quickly he placed a hand over hers and led her through the darkening streets as the rain began to fall in great torrents, further reducing what little visibility there was and turning everything into vague, dark shapes.

They were not far from the house when Athos turned his head slightly, his hand reaching for his pistol.

"What is it?" Eleanor had felt him tense; his muscles like coiled springs under her hand.

"I'm not certain." His eyes darted back and forth, trying to see through the heavy rain. He could have sworn he had heard someone following them but the rain beat a relentless patter on the streets and he could not be absolutely sure. He clutched Eleanor's arm and guided her onward; it was only a few more streets to go and even if it was nothing he would feel safer once he had got her inside.

A great burst of thunder sounded and lightning flashed; illuminating the streets for a moment. In the few seconds that their world was brightly lit, Athos saw a shape move in the narrow street ahead of them. He stopped, readying his pistol and pulled Eleanor close, his arm wrapping firmly about her waist. She said nothing, sensing his worry. Athos glanced behind him and, seeing a clear street moved them back the way they had come, his eyes fixed on where he was certain he could see the glint of a weapon. Ordinarily a lone figure would not have worried him, he would even have welcomed the fight; but with Eleanor he would not take the risk. She stayed pressed against him as they moved; trusting him to guide her to safety.

Too late he heard the footsteps behind them and turned to see a group of men, all armed.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" He stared steadily at them over his pistol.

"Your fair companion is Eleanor Ardoin I believe, formerly Eleanor Treville." The man who spoke was not tall, but he gave an impression of power and danger, even with his red hair plastered to his head. His cold blue eyes flashed as another bolt of lightning tore across the sky.

"You are mistaken." Athos's voice was steady but his stomach dropped when the man smiled.

"I thought you might try that. Thankfully there aren't too many blind women with red hair who are escorted by musketeers." He waved a hand and Athos froze as he felt the cold muzzle of a pistol pressed against his neck. The man smiled and moved forwards, raising the pistol he carried and aiming it at Eleanor. "Just in case you thought to try something." He raised his other hand, grasping the hood of the cloak. Eleanor flinched away from his hand, pressing herself against Athos and with a quick motion, the man ripped the cloak away completely, his smile broadening as her hair tumbled free, the fiery red not yet darkened by the rain. "Not quite as mistaken as you thought. If you would come with us quietly it would be less inconvenient for me and less painful for you."

"Thank you for the offer, but we will decline." Athos tightened his hold on Eleanor and felt her twist her fingers into his jerkin as the men moved forwards.

There were six of them and Athos mentally tried to work out if he could kill them all. Again; he would not have thought about it if it were not for the girl he had his arm wrapped around. One of them raised his pistol and shook his head, almost as though he knew what the musketeer was thinking.

One of the men moved forwards and Eleanor shuddered as she felt the cold metal of his gun at her neck. Silently cursing in language that would make a sailor blush, Athos allowed the men to take his weapons and lead them back through the streets.

* * *

**Hope you liked xx**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys, here's the next chapter, thank you to Troy08, Purplelizzie1, Keesha, Doubtful Guest and dg101 for the reviews.**

**Some of you weren't sure about the way Treville reacted to finding out about Athos and Eleanor, so I'll see if I can explain why I wrote it that way and hopefully give you a bit of an insight into the story. Obviously we don't have a canon way he would react as he doesn't have a daughter either in the book or the series (I'm sure many of you have come across this kind of difficulty in your own writings) so I've gone with the kind of reaction that I think most men were likely to have. We're talking 1600's France here and although it was a bit more liberal than London, it wasn't so liberal that an unmarried woman sleeping with a random guy was celebrated or encouraged. Most fathers would be furious, especially if the man was someone they had trusted with their daughter's well being. Also don't forget that Treville is a Gascon with the famously short fuse to match and the names he calls Eleanor were the kind of words bandied around when girls started sleeping with people before marriage. Also his threat to put her in a convent wouldn't have been uncommon, it was the kind of thing you did with an errant daughter in those days; I don't think Treville would actually do that, or dismiss Athos from the regiment, however I also wouldn't put it past him to remind them of what he could have done if he'd wanted to, as he has done previously in the series. I think Eleanor's revelation would shock the fury out of him and although he is angry, he still loves her and wants her to be happy, hence why he eventually lets her have her way.**

**I hope this helps and perhaps explains a bit about the way I wrote it, please feel free to message me if you have any other queries. Sorry about the minor essay, but all the reviewers were guests so I couldn't message them.**

**Anyway, on with the story.**

* * *

Athos clutched Eleanor to him, keeping his arm wrapped firmly around her as the men led them through the rain soaked streets, the downpour ensuring that nobody saw them. Eventually they came into what, if one was being polite, might be described as a less savoury part of Paris. Although the men kept their weapons trained on their two captives, they did not touch them and Athos decided that they must be under orders to take them, but not harm them, at least not yet.

Eventually, the men led them to what looked like a deserted house in a run-down part of the city. Eleanor kept her fingers twisted into Athos' jerkin as the men took them through the rooms of the house, stumbling slightly on the uneven and unfamiliar floorboards. Finally they were stopped at a door which was opened before the men pushed them through and pulled it closed behind them. Athos heard a bolt slide into place as he stumbled forwards, still holding onto Eleanor as they were left alone in the dim glow of a single lantern. He managed to stop just in time to prevent them both falling down the narrow wooden staircase that they now stood at the top of. Carefully he guided her down the rickety steps; each one feeling like it might give way at any moment. At last they reached the bottom of the stairs, stepping carefully onto a floor of packed dirt.

"Are you alright?" Athos held Eleanor at arms' length, studying her carefully, although he knew the men had not touched her except to remove her cloak, he still needed to reassure himself.

"I'm fine; what about you?" Her fingers brushed over his arms and chest, searching for any injury.

"I'm alright." He pulled her to him, relieved and she did not resist as he enfolded her in his arms. After a few moments, she spoke.

"Where are we?"

"An old house, not too far from the Court of Miracles I believe."

"Not ideal then."

"You could say that." Carefully, Athos disentangled himself from her and moved away, looking around in the dim light. The cellar appeared to be much like the rest of the house; neglected and falling apart. There was dust everywhere and the air smelled musty. Quietly, he moved back up the stairs and inspected the door; it was solid and unyielding. He sighed; it was typical that the door would be the only thing still in one piece. He turned to see that Eleanor had also begun to explore, carefully running her fingers over the rough walls as she circled the room. He watched as she took a quick breath, her head shifting from side to side as though she was scenting the air and a small frown appearing on her face.

"There's a breeze here." She had paused at the far wall, her head tilted upwards.

As he came back down the stairs, Athos could see a small window level with the beams that ran above their heads. He glanced around and spotted an old crate. Eleanor tilted her head, listening as he pulled the crate across the room.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a window up there, I'm going to have a look." Athos stood carefully on the crate and reached up. He just managed to grasp the beam and hauled himself up, careful not to crack his head on the ceiling. Carefully he pulled himself up level with the window and peered through; on closer inspection, it was not really much more than a grate, crossed with iron bars that had about as much give in them as the door. Even if he had been able to pull them free, neither he nor Eleanor could have fitted through the tiny opening. He growled in frustration before dropping back to the floor.

"Anything?"

"Just rain and dark. Perhaps if we're still here in the morning we can attract attention."

"With any luck we won't be; Aramis will be due to arrive at the house shortly, he's sure to tell my Father once he realises we're missing."

"That is true, and if I know your Father he'll call out the entire regiment to find you." Eleanor smiled at the idea and tilted her head as a thought struck her.

"Do we have anything we could hang out of the window that someone might recognise?" Athos thought for a moment then lifted a hand to his neck.

"My scarf perhaps." Quickly he unwrapped it and climbed back up to the grate, tying the scarf around the bars and pushing it out onto the street. He hoped that if his friends came this way then they would recognise it as his.

He dropped to the ground again and Eleanor turned her head towards him. " I imagine all we can do now is to wait." To her credit, she did not sound worried or scared, merely bored. She reached out her hand and he went to her, wrapping his arms around her gently. She shivered against him and he frowned, lifting a hand and placing it on her cheek.

"My God, you're frozen." He just managed to stop himself from cursing as he released her and began to undo his jerkin. He could see now that she had gone pale with cold; her hair hung in damp tendrils around her shoulders and her clothes were soaked. He pulled off his jerkin and wrapped it around her shoulders, the chill air seeping through his shirt as he wrapped her in his arms once more. Silently he berated himself for forgetting that her cloak had been lost and for not noticing sooner that she was cold. He was pulled from his thoughts as Eleanor rested her cheek on his chest and gritted his teeth as her ice cold skin touched his.

"Thank you." Her voice was quiet and muffled against his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me you were cold?"

"We had more important things to consider." Her tone was unrepentant and he sighed.

"Not likely; you Father will flay me alive if he rescues us only to find I've let you die of cold."

"I'm not going to die from the rain."

"Your Father was right; you are headstrong." She laughed softly against his chest.

"He should know." Sighing once more, Athos led her to one of the walls, settling them down on the floor. After a few moments, Eleanor sat bolt upright, her breaths coming quickly.

"What is it?" Athos pressed a hand to her back and swept his gaze over her, trying to determine what was wrong. He could see nothing, although her heart fluttered like a caged bird beneath his hand.

"That's it; it's the same..." She cast her head around, scenting the air.

"Eleanor, what's the matter?" After a few moments, she seemed to regain control of herself and her breathing slowed.

"Do you remember when Father asked me what I could remember from the market?"

"Yes."

"There's been a scent in the air here that I couldn't place although I knew I'd smelt it before; it's the same scent as the cloak that the man wore."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, it's the same people here, I'm sure of it." Athos felt her tremble and her breaths quickened once more. He could not blame her; after all she had realised that she was in the hands of people who had already tried to kill her once. He would have thought it odd if she had not been worried. He could not think of any words that could possibly be of any comfort to her and instead wrapped an arm about her shoulders and pulled her against him, pressing a gentle kiss against her hair. She curled against him and after a while, the trembling stopped as she took what comfort she could from his presence.

Aramis made his way through the dark, wet streets; the rain had not eased and the wind howled, threatening to send his hat flying across the Paris rooftops. As quickly as he could he made his way to Treville's house, still marvelling at the fact that Athos was still alive after bedding Eleanor. He was also still reeling at the very occurrence of Athos and Eleanor's relationship; while he had known that his friend was falling for the girl, he still could not quite believe that she had managed to thaw the heart that they had all believed frozen and untouchable.

_Ah well, stranger things have happened I suppose._ His thoughts drifted, as they often did to his night with the Queen and he shrugged, thinking that perhaps Athos and Eleanor was not so strange after all.

When he knocked on the door, Anna let him in and he was surprised to see her frown and look past him as though she did not expect him to be alone.

"You have not brought her back with you?"

"Who?"

"Eleanor, where is she?"

"She's not here?" Aramis paused in the undoing of his cloak and felt his heart pick up pace.

"I haven't seen her since she left with your friend the monsieur Athos this morning."

"Oh God, Madame, if they should return then send a messenger to the garrison." Without another word the sharpshooter sprinted out into the night, leaving Anna standing in the doorway.

Aramis' lungs burned as he ran back through the soaked streets but he dared not slow down. He did not know why Athos and Eleanor were missing, but he would bet his life that it could not be anything good. He felt relief in his chest when he saw that a light still burned in the Captain's office and ignored the shocked faces of Porthos and d'Artagnan as he ran past them at the garrison gate. He ran up the stairs, almost slipping on the wet wood and heard his friends' feet just behind him as he regained his footing and leapt the last two steps.

Treville looked up in annoyance as Aramis burst through the door without knocking. "What the..?" He stopped in his exclamation when he saw the look on the Spaniard's face. "Aramis, what's wrong?"

"They're missing, Sir, Eleanor and Athos; they never made it back to the house." Aramis gasped out his message and stood with his hands on his knees, gasping air into his lungs. Treville stood and caught sight of Porthos and d'Artagnan with shocked expressions on their faces as they stood in the doorway.

"d'Artagnan, rouse the regiment, anyone who's still within the garrison, get them all." The boy nodded and turned without a word, disappearing off into the rain.

"Would they have left the city?" Treville watched two of his inseparables process the question, their brows furrowing as they realised what head just asked.

"What eloped? I don't think so, Captain; that would be the height of disloyalty and I cannot imagine it from either of them." Aramis had straightened and his expression was incredulous.

"Thank you." Treville nodded. "I just needed it confirmed." He crossed the room and picked up his cloak and sword. "That leaves the most likely possibility; that it's something to do with the people who attacked Eleanor." He swung his cloak around his shoulders and strode to the door, picking up a pistol on the way. Porthos and Aramis glanced at each other before following him.

In the courtyard, d'Artagnan had gathered any musketeers that remained within the garrison and they stood, armed and ready, waiting for their Captain.

"My daughter and Athos have gone missing; most likely they have been taken by the people that have already targeted my daughter once. We need to find them and see them safe." Without another word he made his way down the steps and set off into the streets, followed by his loyal men.

Athos and Eleanor were not left alone for long; the door at the top of the stairs opened and Athos rose to his feet, keeping an arm firmly wrapped around Eleanor as she stood with him. Several of the men who had captured them made their way down the stairs, bearing several lamps that lit the room brightly. Three of them moved towards their prisoners, vicious smiles appearing on their faces as Athos pushed Eleanor behind him.

He managed to block the first punch but the second one landed on his jaw and was swiftly repaid with one of his own. The men continued to attack and try as he might; Athos was unable to avoid every blow. A particularly vicious blow found its' way through his defences and landed on his cheek, snapping his head back with the force of it. In a moment, they were on him; he felt hands grasping his arms and shoulders as another arm snaked around his neck from behind, slowly closing around his throat in an iron hold. As his vision began to swim, he heard Eleanor cry out and saw that another man had taken hold of her with an arm wrapped around her body and was dragging her towards the centre of the room. She fought him as best she could, her hair flying over her face as she struggled against him but she did not stand a chance against his size and strength and he was able to pull her across the room and and force her to her knees, his hands resting firmly on the back of her neck to keep her there.

"That's enough." A voice cut through the air and the grip around Athos' throat loosened. He gasped, coughed and heaved in a breath, fighting to pull air into his lungs as his head spun. His knees had buckled at some point but the two men holding his arms had forced him to stay upright. As his vision cleared, Athos saw a young man standing at the top of the stairs, his face expressionless as he gazed down on his captives. Slowly he descended the steps and Athos was able to get a better look at him.

He wasn't tall, but he had an air of command about him. His hair, so dark it was almost black, fell in unruly curls around his ears and bright blue eyes gazed out from a pale face. He smiled, his expression mocking and Athos had a nagging feeling that he ought to recognise him.

The boy gazed steadily at the musketeer, seemingly in thought. Finally he spoke. "So which one are you?"

"Athos." The boy's lips quirked slightly but he said nothing. His head turned slightly as footsteps sounded on the stairs and he smiled once more. Athos looked past the boy and felt a momentary surprise when he saw a woman making her way towards them. She crossed the room and moved up behind the boy, taking his hand and resting her chin on his shoulder as she gazed at Athos.

"What did you bring me, brother?"

"The girl and a musketeer; says his name is Athos." The girl smiled and Athos struggled against the hands holding him as she approached him.

"I've heard of you; one of Treville's favourites." She gazed steadily at him for a moment with the same bright blue eyes as the boy, before turning in a swirl of skirts and moving towards where one of the men still held Eleanor. Slowly she crouched down in front of Eleanor, raising a hand to tilt the girl's chin and gazing into the blind eyes. After a moment she stood, moving back to the boy.

"It's perfect, we have Treville's whelp and his favourite dog. Well done, brother." She kissed the boy on the cheek and he glanced at the men holding Athos.

"Carry on."

"Leave his face. I don't want him damaged, it would be a waste." Athos stared at her, uncertain of her meaning.

He was left in no doubt when one of the men approached him and slammed a fist into his stomach. The men held him fast and he heard Eleanor's cries as she realised what was happening. He struggled against the men holding him but he was no match for their combined strength as the blows continued to rain down on his ribs and stomach, leaving him gasping for breath.

Eventually his knees gave way once more and this time he was allowed to collapse onto the packed dirt of the floor. The three men gathered around him, kicking him viciously and he tried desperately to move away from the blows. He managed to get a knee under his body and went to move, grunting as he felt a rib crack under a particularly vicious kick that sent him sprawling back across the floor. Eleanor's distressed cries blended with the sounds of the blows and soon Athos was unable to distinguish one kick from the next through the haze of pain.

Eleanor could hear the sickening sound of blows connecting with flesh and Athos' grunts of pain had long since stopped, bringing back terrible memories of another brave soul who had once taken a beating because he had tried to protect her. She heard an awful sound as she struggled against the man who held her and realised that it was her own cry of distress. Silencing herself she prayed that he still lived.

"That's enough." She heard the same voice that had spoken before; he sounded young, but there was no question of his authority as the sounds of the blows ceased immediately. She held her breath, listening intently for any sign that Athos was still alive. Relief flooded through her when she heard harsh, laboured breaths; although she could tell that he was in pain, he was alive at least.

Athos lay on the cold floor; every breath was a struggle and he could feel countless bruises forming. He fought to stay awake, unwilling to sink into the blissful oblivion that hovered invitingly at the edge of his mind. He wasn't sure he could move, but he could at least remain conscious. He heard soft footsteps and a moment later the hem of a dress swung into view. The girl crouched beside him and placed a soft hand under his cheek, lifting his head and forcing him to look up at her. Her eyes were even more mocking than her brothers as she gazed down at him, dark hair falling softly over her shoulders and almost brushing his face.

"Well I'm surprised you're still awake; you're tougher than you look." A small smile appeared and she held out her other hand to one of the men. As she laid his head down again, Athos saw the glint of a blade as the man passed it to her and grunted as a boot was pressed against his shoulder, pushing him flat onto his back where he lay feeling utterly helpless. "Let's see how you fare in the next round." The girl reached down and grasped the front of his shirt, slitting it open. She stood back and watched as two men pulled him upright, ripping the shirt from his back as they did so. One man tied Athos' wrists together with a rough rope and he hissed in pain as the man swung the end of the rope over one of the beams and pulled, dragging his hands high above his head. Once again, Athos heard Eleanor's cry of distress as her hands were also bound and tied to another beam so that she stood opposite him.

Once the ropes were secure, the girl stepped forwards, her hips swinging slowly under her wide skirts. She reached out, her fingers tracing lightly over the bruises that were forming in purple splashes over his stomach and ribs. As he flinched away, she smiled and shifted, pressing her body against his and running one hand over his back in an awful parody of moments he had shared with Eleanor only that morning.

"So handsome; such a pity." Abruptly she was gone, spinning on her heel and moving to rejoin her brother. The boy gazed at Athos, his eyes cold.

"Make sure they suffer, I want Treville to see their pain when we deliver their bodies to him." His voice was quiet, yet full of hatred.

"But don't kill them just yet." The girl smirked as she took her brother's arm and they turned, making their way back up the stairs followed by all but one of the men.

Athos watched as the remaining man, who had so far only stood and observed, stepped forwards into the light of the lanterns. It was the same man who had taken them on the street and now the musketeer was able to get a better look at their captor. He was perhaps about the same height as Athos and, as he rolled up his sleeves, the musketeer could see whipcord muscle. His cold blue eyes surveyed the two captives from beneath faded red hair. His narrow face was expressionless as he stepped forwards and the musketeer caught sight of a coiled horse whip in his hand.

"What is the purpose of this?" Athos wasn't stupid enough to provoke the man, but he could at least try and find out what was happening and perhaps play for some time.

The man shrugged and paused next to where Eleanor stood, her hands stretched high above her head and her feet barely touching the floor. He swept the whip through the air, stopping just before the handle hit her cheek. She flinched as she heard the sound it made and felt the air move. The man gazed at her for a moment, his expression mildly curious before turning back to face Athos.

"I don't ask questions; they pay me and I do what they ask."

"Even if it involves harming an innocent woman?" Athos was taken aback when the man gave a humourless laugh.

"Especially when women are involved, and I haven't harmed her...yet." He moved towards Athos, his pace leisurely as he moved with a lazy grace and predatory air. Slowly he circled the musketeer, that cold curiosity in his gaze as he studied the marks of the previous beating. "Idiots, no care or finesse; let us see if we can do a better job this time."

Although Athos knew what was coming, he was still unprepared when the whip hissed through the air and landed on his back. He gritted his teeth as he felt a line of fire form on his skin and his muscles tense against the blow. As the second blow came, followed quickly by a third, it was only his iron will that prevented him from uttering any sound. Each blow was precise, the force carefully measured and Athos could tell that this man was not just a mindless brute but knew exactly what he was doing, for although the blows were agonising, Athos was sure that the lash had not yet broken his skin. This however was not a comfort as the force of the blows was increased and he felt his skin split beneath the lash, his back arched, the muscles screaming in protest and Athos grunted, clamping his teeth together in a desperate attempt to avoid crying out.

He fixed his gaze on where Eleanor stood, her wrists straining against the ropes that held her. Her face was anguished and tears ran down her face, leaving him in no doubt that she knew exactly what was happening. Every time she heard the whip strike him, she flinched, almost as though the blows were landing against her own flesh. Surprisingly, her distress gave him strength and his resolve not to make a sound grew; he could not stand to see her in pain and would not cause her any more distress if it was in his power to avoid it.

After what seemed like forever, the blows ceased and the man moved once more to circle the musketeer, assessing him carefully. Athos' legs would no longer fully take his weight and he hung from the rope, his breaths coming in short gasps and he fought to regain control of his lungs. He could feel a sheen of sweat on his skin and what was most certainly blood running down his back, which felt as though it was on fire. Nonetheless he still managed to summon the will to lift his head and look at the man in front of him. The man's pale eyes stared back and he tilted his head to one side.

"You take punishment well; one would almost think you haven't suffered, it's hardly a surprise though." He took the handle of the whip and traced it along an old scar that ran across Athos' shoulder and then along another that traced down his ribs, still just visible beneath fresh blood and bruises. He looked up again and Athos briefly saw what might have been a flicker of respect in the cold eyes. "But this is a problem you see; I wonder if perhaps your suffering would be greater if I took the whip to her." He looked over at Eleanor and Athos watched fear dawn on her face.

"You don't have to do this." Athos could hear the desperation in his own voice and realised his mistake as a triumphant smile appeared on the man's face.

"Oh I do." He turned and made his way slowly towards Eleanor. "My lady has demanded that you suffer and I would rather cross the devil than her." He dropped the whip to the floor and slowly reached out a hand, almost tenderly brushing a tear from Eleanor's cheek. Athos watched as he pulled a knife from his belt and carefully sliced through the ties of Eleanor's corset. His hands were almost gentle as he slipped the garment from her body and dropped it to the floor. Fear showed on Eleanor's face as he leant forwards and wrapped his arms around her, tearing the back of her shift open to the waist. Athos heard her take a sharp breath and an expression of horrified realisation dawned on her features.

"It was you." Her voice was choked in fear.

"What was that, little one?" He smirked as he circled around her and she flinched away again as he brushed her hair over her shoulder and ran a hand along the soft curve of her back, almost as though he was admiring the smooth skin.

"You attacked me in the market." A smile formed on the man's face and with the speed of a striking snake he reached a hand over Eleanor's shoulder, wrapping his fingers around her throat. She struggled and grimaced but he pushed his finger under her chin and forced her head back, tightening his grip so that she gasped for breath.

"Well aren't you a clever little thing, I'm impressed that you worked it out." He pressed his face against her neck, inhaling deeply. "Clever and a beauty; I think I will ask my lady if I might have you for a while later." He pressed his lips to Eleanor's neck, his eyes flicking up to meet Athos' gaze and a smile forming as he saw the rage on the musketeer's face. "Now to work; I was less impressed that you managed to survive the poison, I was assured it would work." He stood back and scooped up the whip from the floor before moving to stand just behind Eleanor once more, running his hand over her back again as she trembled beneath his touch. "I do so like a completely blank canvas to work on, but I see someone has beaten me to it at some point." He frowned as he traced a finger over the scar on her ribs and the ones next to it. "Ah well, there's still plenty more of you to work on."

Abruptly he removed his hand and raised the whip, bringing it hissing down across her back. Eleanor's body tensed and she let out a choked sob; her eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Athos struggled furiously against his bonds, growling in anger and frustration as the whip descended again. As Eleanor's cries mingled with the snap of the lash, Athos realised that the man had been right; he could take a beating but watching Eleanor suffer was too much to bear.

* * *

**Hope you liked, much love xx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys, really sorry that I haven't updated for so long, I had a load of clothes to make for the historical re-enactment group I'm part of, plus work which didn't leave any time for writing at all. Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter, Merick, Troy08, dg101, Helensg, Christine and Maelstrom Rising, the rest of you guys need to get accounts so I can thank you properly :-)**

**Anyways, here goes, sorry for keeping you in suspense for so long :-(**

* * *

The musketeer regiment followed their Captain through the streets as he made his way along the route that he knew Athos and Eleanor would have taken. At every side street and alley some of his men peeled off to search, rejoining the group empty handed and with grim expressions on their faces. The group had grown since it had left the garrison; more musketeers joining them from taverns or their homes as they passed and told them what was afoot. Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan had stuck together as they searched, peeling off in a group to search alleys and doorways. Although all of the musketeers were anxious to find their missing brother, these three would feel it most keenly if anything happened to him or the girl.

"Captain." The shout echoed through the street and Treville turned to see a small group of men emerging from a small side street, something clutched in the hands of the man at the front.

"What is it?" The man stopped in front of him and handed him something, Treville took it, feeling the weight of sodden wool as it draped over his arms. He was taken aback when Aramis reached out, snatching the wet fabric from his hands and studying it carefully in the dim light. When he looked up, his face was grim.

"It's Eleanor's cloak, Captain." The sharpshooter held out the fabric, showing Treville the delicate silvery embroidery that traced the hem."I recognise it from this morning."

"Jesus, what now?" Treville heard Porthos' exclamation and could not deny that he felt the same; they had found where Eleanor and Athos had been taken but that would not lead them far.

"Search the surrounding streets." He shouted the order to be heard over the storm and watched as his men turned to disperse through the rain. "You three." His remaining inseparables turned to him. "Go to the Court of Miracles, ask around, see if anyone has seen anything in that part of the city; promise a hundred livre to anyone who can bring us any information that leads us to them." They nodded and turned without a word and Treville made his way back into the alley to continue the search with the rest of his men.

"Why does he think we'll find anything near the Court." D'Artagnan blinked water out of his eyes as he jogged along beside Porthos.

"Where else would you take someone if you didn't want them to be found?" Porthos grunted his reply and stopped suddenly, holding out a hand to halt the others. "Wait here, I'll go in alone." Without another word he made his way through the archway and into the Court of Miracles.

Porthos made his way through the narrow street at the entrance to the court, hearing only a very faint warning strike as those who had not sheltered inside noticed him. He walked as fast as he dared, keeping his hands well in view as he approached the doors to the inside and the guards that sat outside them.

"I need to see the queen."

"Why?" The men regarded him warily, looking at the fleur-de-lis on his shoulder.

"Please, just tell her that Porthos is here." The big musketeer thought he saw a flicker of recognition at his name and desperately wished he could growl at the men to let him in, but starting a fight would solve nothing right now, he would save his anger for when he caught the people who had taken his friends. He was relieved when one of the men turned and hurried into the building.

He had only been waiting a few minutes when the door swung open and he was ushered inside and led through the twisting passages of the Court. At last they came to a room and the curtain was pulled aside to let him through. Flea stood as he entered, the smile dropping from her face when she saw his expression.

"Porthos, what is it?" She frowned, scrutinising him carefully.

"Captain's daughter and Athos have been taken. Treville reckons they've been brought to this part of the city."

"You don't think they're here?" Her face was incredulous and Porthos could swear that he saw her bristle; if he hadn't been so worried he would have thought it attractive.

"No, but your people know this area better than anyone. We need your help, Flea, they could be anywhere and anything could have happened to them." He watched as she considered his words and was relieved when she nodded.

"Alright."

"You're a good woman; by the way, Captain's offered a hundred livre to anyone that brings him information that leads us to them."

"Well why didn't you mention that before?" Despite the seriousness of the situation, Porthos could not suppress a chuckle as she led him from the room.

The rain continued to pour as Treville paced restlessly through the chamber that Flea had set aside for him. He had been persuaded to come to the court by Aramis; the sharpshooter explaining that if the Captain was here, then he could be found quickly should the search of the city reveal anything. He picked up a cup of wine, and then put it down again, moving to the small window and peering out into the downpour. He could see figures moving back and forth; vague, blurred shapes in the grey light. It would be dawn soon.

He turned as the door burst open with a crash, bouncing off the wall behind it and hitting Porthos' outstretched hand as he reached out to stop it. Treville frowned as he saw the burden in the big musketeers' arms. It was a child, perhaps five years old and possibly one of the most beautiful children he had ever seen. She had one arm around Porthos' neck as he carried her without effort. Her gaze was steady as she regarded the musketeer Captain with solemn, dark eyes that stared out from beneath dark curls that were damp from rain and whipped about by the wind. Gently, Porthos set the child down and she drew close to him, clutching something tight to her chest as though it were a precious treasure.

"What is it, Porthos?" Treville could not keep the impatience from his voice and he saw the child shrink closer to the musketeer.

"Show him what you've got, Jacquetta." Porthos addressed the child softly and Treville wondered briefly how a little girl in a ragged dress and bare feet had come across such a regal name. His thoughts were brought back to the present when the girl glanced up at Porthos before taking a hesitant step forward and holding out the hand that had been clutched to her chest. Treville looked on in astonishment; there, crumpled in her small hand was a familiar strip of fabric that Treville had seen almost every day for years. Soaked through and dirty, but unmistakably the scarf that Athos favoured. Treville resisted the urge to snatch it from the child. Instead, he stepped towards her and crouched down, putting himself on a level with her solemn, dark eyes.

"May I?" He managed to keep his voice calm, not wanting to scare the child, and reached out his hand. Jacquetta nodded, offering the scarf to him and watching as he rose to his feet, pacing once more. "Who found this?"

"She did; brought it to Flea just now."

"Can you remember where you found it?" Treville fixed the little girl with his gaze and she stared back, unphased, and nodded. "Can you show us?" Another nod and Treville turned his gaze to Porthos. "Find the men, bring them here."

"Aramis and d'Artagnan are already on it; some of them are already here." Porthos scooped up the child as Treville made for the door and turned to follow his Captain, taking the little girl who held the only lead they had with him.

In the outer part of the Court, the musketeers had started to gather, brought back by the messages passed through the streets by d'Artagnan and Aramis. Treville counted about fifteen gathered so far and noted a few more cautiously entering the realms of the Court and moving to join their brothers; he looked around until he spotted two men standing close by.

"Mikel, Therron, stay here; wait for the others and keep them here. If we need you then I'll send a runner." The men nodded, not questioning their Captain and Treville turned to the rest of the men, raising his voice to be heard above the still falling rain. "Make ready to leave." He did not need to say anything else, nor would he; they were soldiers and would obey without question, although he did note a few questioning glances directed at the child in Porthos' arms. He nodded at the big musketeer and Porthos moved towards the gate, Aramis and d'Artagnan moving to stand beside him.

Gently, Porthos set Jacquetta down, frowning as her bare feet touched the wet cobbles and her small toes wiggled in the water that pooled on the streets. He spoke gently to her and she gazed solemnly at him before turning and setting off into the street at a run, the group of musketeers following her as though she were a hound at the hunt.

They followed the child as she made her way through the twisting streets, bare feet sure on the slick, shining stones. The rain was beginning to ease and the pounding of the musketeer's boots became clearer over the now faint patter of drops on stone. Treville glanced at his men as they jogged along the street; they were exhausted, the sky was beginning to lighten to a faint grey in the East, meaning that many of them had now not slept for almost a full day and night. But not for nothing were they in this regiment, and he trusted that they would manage whatever they found at Jacquetta's destination. Just ahead of him he saw Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan leading the pack, coursing forwards like hounds on a scent; they would find Athos just as they would always find any of their group that went missing. They had not been named the inseparables for nothing.

As the first faint streaks of dawn light turned the clouds to pink and gold, Jacquetta stopped. The group stopped with her, the men milling about uncertainly in the damp street. Treville stepped forwards to where Porthos had crouched next to the child and was speaking to her.

"What is it?" Jacquetta looked up at him, her dark eyes huge in her pale face. She turned, pointing to a house that stood, for want of a better word, at the end of the street.

"There." Her single word confirmed her gesture and Treville nodded. He reached up for the fastening of his cloak and swung the heavy fabric from his shoulders, miraculously, it was still dry on the inside and he settled it over the child; although the ragged little thing was more than likely used to being wet and cold, he did not see any reason that she should remain so on his account.

"Stay here, little one. Pierre, look after her." The man he had singled out nodded and stepped forwards, picking up Jacquetta and moving to a small overhang which would offer them some small protection from the rain that still fell steadily, now more of a fine drizzle than the downpour of earlier, but still not pleasant to stand in. Treville motioned the rest of the men forwards and they made their way cautiously to the house at the end of the street.

They crept quietly towards the door, drawing weapons as they did so. Treville paused at one side of the door, facing Aramis. "We're sure this is the right house?"

"Well if it isn't then we'll just have to apologise." They started as what was unmistakably a scream sounded from inside the house. "Never mind." The sharpshooter looked at Porthos who stood ready. Treville followed the Spaniard's gaze before nodding and taking a step back as Porthos lowered his shoulder.

The door gave way all too easily and Porthos' momentum carried him into the house. Treville did not wait before leading the rest of the men through the door, pistols held at the ready. One man was slumped against the wall at the other side of the hall, the result of a blow from Porthos. Treville grasped a man who ran towards him, knocking a knife from his hands and slamming him against a wall. He heard a sickening crack as the man's head hit the wall, but at the moment, he didn't care.

"The musketeer and the girl, where are they?" He bellowed into the man's face and heard a door slam somewhere and muffled voices from further inside the house. Throwing the man aside he turned to see a musketeer dispatch one of the last men and caught sight of the tails of Aramis' coat disappearing round a corner. He turned to follow his musketeers, finding them gathered around a door that looked like it was the most solid thing in the whole crumbling house.

"We've searched all the other rooms, there's no one left unless they're in here." D'Artagnan had a shallow cut across his neck, but it was nothing serious. Treville glanced at the door and looked at Aramis who was absentmindedly re-loading his pistol, his eyes fixed on his Captain.

"Open it." The sharpshooter nodded and stepped in front of the door, aiming his pistol at the lock and pulling his hat over his eyes. The rapport of the gun echoed through the house and the lock burst in a shower of sparks. Treville stepped forwards and nudged the door open with his foot, cautiously making his way into the dark space beyond.

He paused just inside the doorway, listening carefully as his eyes adjusted to the dim lantern light. He could hear faint, gasping breaths but little else in the darkness. The air in the cellar carried the scent of damp and neglect, along with the faint, underlying tang of blood. He heard Aramis' soft tread behind him and Porthos' heavier footing to one side, a moment later the steps in front of him were bathed in light as d'Artagnan stepped forwards bearing another lamp. Together, they made their way down the stairs and when the lamplight hit the bottom of the stairs Treville could not help himself as he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Mon dieu." Treville heard Aramis' whispered exclamation and a sharp intake of breath from d'Artagnan. Eleanor and Athos hung by their wrists from the ceiling, each of them quite still.

After a moment, Treville was able to shake himself and start forwards again, moving first towards Eleanor as Aramis strode towards Athos. The corseted top of Eleanor's dress lay discarded on the floor and he could see the dark gleam of blood on her shift, she hung limp in the ropes, her hair falling across her face and for one dreadful moment, Treville feared the worst. He moved towards her and placed his hand under her chin to lift her face towards him. The effect was instant; she gave a cry of fear and pulled away, struggling against the ropes.

"Eleanor, Eleanor, hush, it's me, hush now." Treville placed his hands on her cheeks, desperately trying to calm her. After a few moments, his words seemed to make their way through her fear and she stopped struggling, disbelief and understanding forming on her face.

"F...Father?"

"Yes it's me, I'm here for you."

"You found us...I didn't think..." Tears of relief started to spill down her cheeks and she sobbed. Beside them, Treville saw Porthos reach towards the ropes with his dagger in hand. With a few neat cuts he severed the bonds and Eleanor's legs collapsed beneath her. Treville caught her as she fell, guiding her to her knees and placing an arm around her shoulders. He nearly leapt backwards when she cried out and flinched away from him.

"What is it? What's...?" Treville trailed off as he saw Porthos' face, the musketeer had his gaze fixed on Eleanor's back.

"Jesus." He heard the soft exclamation and as he looked down, his gaze lighted on a horsewhip thrown carelessly to the ground a short way away.

"Oh no." Treville could barely bring himself to look down at his daughter as she knelt beside him. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to her back, and hesitantly brushed her hair across her shoulder, feeling her tremble beneath his hand. He felt a swell of rage, hatred and sadness all at once as the sight beneath her hair was revealed. Her shift had been torn open, exposing her back to the waist. Criss-crossing the pale skin were bruises and fine welts, stark blue and red against the fair skin. Across some, the skin had split, dark blood drops welling from them that left bright streaks of red across her shoulders where he had touched her. Porthos unfastened his cloak and swung it from his shoulders before gently lowering it across Eleanor's back to cover the dreadful marks.

"Athos, where's Athos...is he..?" Eleanor made as though to try and stand but her strength failed her and she collapsed against Treville. He looked over at where Aramis and d'Artagnan had cut Athos from his bonds and laid him carefully on the packed dirt floor. His back was to Treville, affording the Captain a perfect view of the whip marks that marred his musketeer's skin; long, open wounds that left his flesh in bloody tatters. Treville caught Aramis' gaze and was relieved when the medic nodded.

"He's alive." He felt her release the breath she had been holding and glanced up at where a group of several other musketeers had formed on the stairs. "Fetch a cart; we need to get them out of here." Two nodded and turned, taking the steps two at a time and Treville allowed his gaze to stray back to where Athos lay. He had seen flogged men before, had ordered it done, had even wielded the whip himself in his time; but this was something else. It had not been done as punishment or reprimand; it had been calculated and vicious, the whip wielded with a degree of skill that made it all the more terrible to see, and he was certain all the more terrible to have suffered. He shuddered, running one hand through Eleanor's hair and pulling her trembling body closer to him; needing to touch her and reassure himself of her safety.

"Captain." Treville tore his eyes away from Athos as the sound of footsteps thundered down the stairs. It was Philippe, a young noble only recently commissioned to the regiment.

"What is it?" The boy looked horrified and Treville gave him a hard stare that made him regain his self control.

"It's Pierre, Sir." Treville glanced up at Porthos, motioning to him to take care of Eleanor. The big musketeer nodded and knelt down, taking the girl's arm and pulling her gently towards him as the Captain stood. As he turned away, Treville heard Porthos murmuring softly, ensuring her that she was safe. Satisfied that his daughter was in safe hands, Treville turned and followed the boy up the rickety staircase.

The rain had stopped, leaving the air smelling fresh and clean in the bright dawn. Treville stepped out onto the damp, shining cobbles and followed Philippe to the opposite side of the street and along to the overhang where he had left Pierre to guard Jacquetta. He could see neither the child or the musketeer and felt a lurch of worry in the pit of his stomach. A few more steps and the boy halted, his young face grim in the early morning light, Treville looked at the boy and then followed his gaze to the shadow of the overhang.

Pierre lay on the cobbles, his blood mixing with the water on the street and being steadily washed away in dark streams. His sword lay beside him and his pistol not far away. Treville crouched beside him, noting the dark stain of blood on the wall where Pierre had fallen and slid down. As he looked at the young man's face, the Captain felt the sadness that he always felt when one of his men met their end, coupled with the guilt that always accompanied it. He had ordered this young man to stand here, out of any that he could have chosen he had chosen him and that decision, made in a split second without a moments' thought had cost Pierre his life. Shaking the feeling off, he turned to the small group of musketeers standing nearby.

"Find another cart; we'll take him home." One of them nodded and turned to run through the streets and Treville looked back to Pierre's body, spotting a pile of blue fabric a few yards away. With a lurch in his stomach, he recognised his cloak and turned back to Philippe. "Where's the girl?"

"Sir?" The young musketeer looked blank.

"The child, you fool, the one who led us here, where is she?"

"I...she wasn't here, Sir."

"Find her." Treville's voice was terse. Looking down once more at Pierre's still body, the Captain rose to his feet and turned to look for the child; she could not have gone far. He turned to one of the many small side streets and began to search the shadows for the little girl. He hoped to God that she had not been harmed; if she had then he did not think he could forgive himself.

"Captain." Treville turned and made his way back up the street towards the call, hoping against hope that it was good news. Philippe stood at the entrance to a small alley that ran alongside a tavern, a frown on his young face. "She's here, Sir; she won't come out." The boy pointed to a pile of crates and barrels stacked against the tavern wall. Treville nodded and started towards the crates, careful to move quietly lest he scare the child further. She cowered in the shadows cast by the tavern wall and the stacked barrels; squeezed into the smallest space between the wall and an old barrel with a hole in its side, her arms thrown over her head as though by blocking her own sight she might hide from unfriendly eyes.

"Jacquetta?" He heard a small sob and one large, brown eye appeared through the smallest of spaces beneath her thin arm. Treville slowly stepped forwards into the mass of crates, careful not to make any sudden movements. "Jacquetta it's alright, you're safe."

"Bad man." The child's cry wrenched at Treville, full of terror and horror. With a terrible feeling in his stomach, he realised that she must have witnessed Pierre's end.

"He's gone, you're safe. Come on, come with me and we'll get you home." Slowly, as though reaching for a skittish horse, Treville stretched out his hands towards the child. She hesitated for a moment but then came willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. As she moved, Treville saw the splash of blood across her pale cheek and realised with a jolt just how close she had been to danger. "It's alright, it's alright; you're safe now." As he held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth and running his fingers through her soft curls, Treville wasn't sure if he was reassuring the child or himself.

When Treville reached the main street once more, the child safely in his arms and wrapped in Philippe's cloak, the men sent for the carts had returned, an old, sturdy pony pulling each. He sent the young musketeer into the house to tell the others to bring Athos and Eleanor out to the carts and turned to direct the loading of Pierre's body onto the second cart. The little pony's nostrils flared at the scent of blood, but she was a steadfast little creature and did not attempt to move away as a small group of musketeers gently placed their fallen brother in the bed of the cart and covered him with his cloak. Treville turned as the door to the house opened and the remainder of the regiment made their way onto the cobbled street.

Porthos had Eleanor in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder as he carried her carefully. Her back was still covered with his cloak, the bright blue fabric concealing her ripped clothes and torn skin and Treville was grateful that she had sunk into oblivion and was spared the pain of being placed into the cart. Carefully Porthos laid her in the cart and turned to help Aramis and d'Artagnan as they brought Athos out onto the street, one arm slung around each of their shoulders as he hung limply between them. They laid him carefully on the straw in the bed of the cart and Aramis swept his cloak over the still form of their brother. Porthos glanced at Treville, frowning as he noted the child in his arms.

"What happened?"

"She's been frightened; you're coming to the court of miracles with me to take her back. Aramis, d'Artagnan, go back to my house with Athos and Eleanor and care for them. The rest of you, take Pierre back to the garrison; I'll be there shortly." The men moved quickly to obey the orders of their Captain, moving silently in the early morning light that shone golden and bright in mockery of their grief and sorrow.


End file.
